Sands of Time
by Chellepo1977
Summary: Dr. Michonne Samaha and Dr. Rick Grimes are on the hunt for a mysterious amulet. Will they get it back before it is used for evil? AU Richonne adventure in the same vein as Indiana Jones and The Mummy. Characters belong to AMC, story belongs to me. Rated M for the possibility of future happenings.
1. Raiders

_Ok, so when I was a kid, I wanted to be Indiana Jones. I have a love for archeology, Egyptology especially, because of six year old me loving Raiders of the Lost Ark. I don't know if there will be more to this. I watched Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade the other night and this popped in my head. I'm honestly trying to finish the stories I already have out there. But I figured writing this would get it out of my system so I can actually focus on those. It was just for fun. I hope you like it! As always, thank you for reading!_

* * *

**Alexandria, Egypt**

**1935**

"Last chance, Grimes. You sure you don't want some of this cut? This thing is going to fetch millions on the black market." Rick ignored the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, and the throbbing pain in his side. It was probably another broken rib, but there was nothing he could do about it as Negan's men twisted his arms behind his back.

Negan himself stood in front of him, gloating at his apparent victory as the 15th century B.C. Udjat Eye amulet that had once belonged to Pharaoh Hatshepsut, sparkled in his hand. Millions wouldn't be enough for the solid gold artifact with the 12 carat sapphire at its center. It was a priceless piece of history, recently been discovered in a tomb outside Luxor, but stolen right out of the case at the Egyptian Museum the night before it was set to go on display.

The Saviors were the only ones who could pull off a heist like that and their leader, Negan, was known for selling priceless artifacts to the highest bidder. Rick had tracked them from Cairo to a flop house on the outskirts of Alexandria, where he waited until dark to sneak in to steal the eye back. Everything had been going fine, until an unfortunate combination of a wine bottle left on the floor in a room full of light sleepers, ignited a fight he was utterly outnumbered in.

Still, his defiance refused to be tapped down even in the face of almost certain death. He smiled through the throbbing pain in his side and growled, "The amulet belongs in a museum!"

Negan's amused, condescending laugh filled the air. "Looks like being a damn boy scout is finally gonna be the death of you." At his nod, Negan's men tightened their grip on him, and tied his ankles and wrists together. "Drop him in the Nile. He'll make a good meal for a crocodile."

He struggled fruitlessly as three men dragged him toward the river and a horrible death. They'd never find any remains, and he'd be considered missing and presumed dead. It wasn't his own death that terrified him. It was leaving his 10 year old son back in Chicago with that uncertainty for the rest of his life. The boy had already lost his mother. Losing his father too would be too much.

Somehow, through the clatter of his thoughts, he heard the rumble of a motorcycle thundering down the road and getting closer to them by the second. The men holding him, paused to see who was arriving to join their little party. The headlight's beam reached them first, but the bike was coming in hot. No one, not even him, realized the rider was aiming a gun at them until they heard the first few shots.

He flinched when a bullet struck one of the men escorting him to his watery grave. Their grip on him loosened, and it was an opening he had to take. He reared his head back and collided it with one of their faces hard enough to cause the sickening crack of bones shattering. Both men let him go, and he dropped to his knees, waiting for the inevitable gunshot. That would be better that the river. At least, there would be closure that way.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Negan yelled, and the men responded by forgetting about what they were told to do, and running to join Negan in the last remaining truck. The motorcycle skidded to a stop, and the rider took off running toward Negan's getaway truck. He tried to see what was happening, but without the light from the bike, the darkness swallowed everything from his position. All he heard was what sounded like the swish of a sword, and the death cries of wounded men.

The truck lurched into gear and pulled out into the road, a sure sign of Negan choosing to save himself rather than his henchmen. Rick watched as the rider sheathed the sword, and moved toward his bike to follow him, but came sliding to a sudden stop a few feet away from where he was curled up on the ground.

It was the first time the rider had even looked in his direction, and he could tell his presence was causing problems for him. The rider turned back to the truck again, which was almost completely out of view, and kicked the tire of the bike. The mysterious person turned back to him again, and began walking his way. It was only then that he realized with much awe, that a woman had saved his ass.

"Damn!" She mumbled, and even though her face was twisted up in disgust, he was struck dumb by her beauty. Her hair was styled in intricate braids that she'd pulled away from her face and into a long ponytail. She wore a leather coat over a white button down shirt and her tan pants were tucked into dusty, brown boots that laced all the way up to her knees. There was a pistol resting at her slender waist, and a sword strapped to her back. Her dark pecan skin was damp with sweat, and her molasses eyes appraised him as she silently approached him.

The look on her face betrayed the fact that she'd rather be chasing down Negan than wasting time untying him. He was already cramping her style and he didn't even know her name. Soon, she was right on top of him; kneeling before him with a knife in her hand to sever his ropes.

"Who are you?" He asked; rubbing his wrists to get the blood circulating again. Even his nearly numb hands and feet couldn't dampen his curiosity over the identity of his beautiful savior.

"Dr. Michonne Samaha," she replied in a rich, slightly accented, contralto, and the name sparked something in his memory. He'd heard stories about a female Egyptologist who taught at the American University in Cairo, who had a taste for trouble that rivaled his own. The woman standing before him was nothing like he'd imagined. He knew he'd been staring too long when she put her hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes.

"And you must be the famous Rick Grimes," she teased. "You're a little bit far from the Oriental Institute, aren't you?"

He shrugged and climbed to his feet, a little too impressed that she actually knew who he was. It was no time to stoke his own ego by telling her that he spent just as much time globetrotting as he did teaching at the Oriental Institute. Besides, he was way more interested in learning about her.

"I'm here for the Eye of Horus, just like you are," he explained.

She folded her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm here to make sure it makes it back to the Egyptian Museum and doesn't end up as a jewel in some wealthy donor's private collection."

Her meaning was clear and he respected it. Too many artifacts had been stolen from Egypt to only end up in private collections or on display in foreign museums. The only thing he cared about was the Eye of Horus not ending up on the black market. The museum it ended up in was of little concern.

"Well then. I guess we're on the same side," he said. "Any clue where they're headed?"

There was a pause before she spoke, and he could almost see her trying to decide to trust him or not. "There's a buyer in Marrakech who calls himself The Governor. He's been buying artifacts on the black market for years, but lately he's ramped up."

"Any idea why?" He asked.

She shook her head. "He's in deep with the Nazis and who knows what they want the artifacts for."

Rick nodded. The Nazis were collecting religious relics and any other valuable artifacts associated with magic. Rumor had it was that the Fuhrer had a strange fascination with all things supernatural.

"They've been collecting rare artifacts rumored to have magical properties. The amulet they just took is Zahrah's Eye," he began, but the incredulous smile that appeared on he lips at the word magical, became a full blown laugh that completely cut off his train of thought.

She interrupted, "The amulet, that according to myth, the god Horus bound the soul of his mortal lover to that has the power to grant eternal life? You don't believe that fairytale, do you?"

Knowing how insane it sounded, he only shrugged. They didn't have time to argue the finer points of mysticism. They had an amulet to retrieve.

"Let's just say that I've seen some interesting shit over the years."

He was used to women rolling their eyes at him, but there was something about the way she did it that made him want to see it again and again.

"Magical or not, it belongs in a museum," she said, and he bit his lip to hide his smirk.

"Agreed," he winced; the pain in his side becoming too persistent to ignore. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing.

"Are you injured?" She asked.

He groaned, "I'm fine...minus a rib or two."

He felt her eyes tracing him from head to toe like she was trying to decide something about him. His nerves were going crazy. He'd never wanted to pass anyone's test more than he did right then. After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, her full lips curved into a sly grin to match the mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"What do you say we tape up that rib, and go get that amulet, Dr. Grimes?" She didn't wait for him to answer. She just turned around and walked back toward her bike like it was a given that he would follow. If he was being completely honest with himself, he'd known he would go anywhere with her from the minute she cut the rope and set him free. He'd never been one for partners, but there was something different this time. There was something different about her.

"Lead the way." He retrieved his fedora from where it had fallen and hurried to catch up with her. He had a feeling that she wasn't a woman who liked to be kept waiting. "By the way, thank you for saving my life. I owe you one."

She looked over her shoulder and winked at him.

"Yes, you do and I never forget a debt."

* * *

**Notes:**

**The Oriental Institute is part of the University of Chicago and the premier school for Egyptology in the United States.**

**Pharaoh Hatshepsut was a badass. There should be movies about her stealing the throne and having herself called Pharaoh, not queen.**

**Horus was the Egyptian god of the sky. The eye of Horus was often used to symbolize sacrifice, healing, restoration, and protection.**

**Zahrah's Eye isn't real. It's something I created as part of an original story. I just dropped Richonne in as a prequel to that lol**


	2. Partners

**Chapter Two - Partners**

Rick Grimes was having trouble breathing, and he wasn't sure if he could attribute that sad fact completely to his injured ribs. Sure, he'd escaped the fate Negan had planned for him, but the woman who'd saved him presented a myriad of problems he was completely unprepared for.

First, he'd been forced to ride 15 miles on the back of her motorcycle. He'd never ridden passenger before, and it was an interesting experience to say the least. Dr. Samaha was a beautiful woman and extremely fit. Straddling the bike behind her, pressed against her firm, yet soft body as they traveled over bumpy, unpaved roads, had left him more than a little frustrated.

There was also the small issue of her riding like a goddamn maniac. The ride was fast…too fast…and he wasn't sure if both wheels stayed connected with the ground. He was a man who had once jumped from car to car on top of a moving train and who stood unflinching in the face of death, but thirty seconds on the back of her motorcycle had him praying for his life with his eyes clenched shut. By the time they made it to what looked like an airfield on the outskirts of Alexandria, his fingers ached from gripping the seat bar behind him so tight. At least being in constant fear for his life, distracted him from his original problem and halted a too embarrassing reaction from the friction of the ride. They climbed off the bike and he waited until her back was turned to adjust himself accordingly before limping behind her into a small house next to the hangar.

There, he was briefly introduced to a younger woman named Rosita and her mother, Nahal, before being pushed into one of the back rooms. Dr. Samaha disappeared for a little while but when she returned, she was carrying bandages and a bowl of water and when she commanded him to remove his shirt all of his efforts to control his growing frustration were made meaningless. Self-preservation took a backseat to the normal reactions of a man in the presence of a beautiful woman.

His eyes fluttered closed, and he bit the inside of his cheek as her gentle fingers traced his ribs during her examination of him. He tried to focus on anything except how silky her hands were, how her hair smelled like a mixture of honey and flowers, and how her mere proximity made him feel like he was coming apart at the seams.

What worried him, was the fact that women didn't usually effect him on that level; both before and after his wife's passing. He'd never been the type to develop crushes, and here he was feeling like a lovesick teenager. The realization that she made him that out of sorts after only knowing her a few hours, floored him. He was in trouble. The Nile and its crocodiles may have been easier to overcome.

"There," she said, and he'd barely realized she'd moved on to wrapping him in gauze and making his torso resemble that of a mummy. "Those ribs will be as good as new in a few days. Good thing they weren't actually broken."

"Yeah. Thanks for taping them up," he said, and she smiled. It was the kind of smile that illuminated entire rooms. He was sure that smile would be the death of him.

"No problem. If we're going to be partners, I need you at full strength," she said.

He nodded and shrugged back into his torn shirt, finally noticing the aroma of freshly cooked food that swept through the house. His stomach chose that moment to loudly remind him that his last meal had been almost a full day earlier.

Dr. Samaha laughed and beckoned for him to follow her out into the main room. Rosita's mother was making bread in the kitchen, and the dining table was filled with food. Dr. Samaha walked over to the woman and thanked her before joining him at the table.

"She always cooks like she's feeding an army," she whispered, "Eat something. Like I said, I need you at full strength."

She didn't need to tell him twice. He lowered himself into one of the chairs and grabbed one of the meat pies. It may have been because he was so hungry, but the first bite had him wanting to kiss the little old woman on her lips.

"Oh my god," he moaned; as he immediately put a second one on his plate along with some Koshari. She just smiled and filled a plate of her own.

"Rosita's mother makes the best Hawawshi in Egypt. Would you like some coffee?"

His mouth full of food; he nodded eagerly and watched as she poured the steaming hot amber liquid into his cup. They ate in silence until he was full enough to think straight again, and he spent the entire time trying to figure out what to say to her first. The researcher in him needed to know what made a woman like Michonne Samaha tick. She was a woman in field dominated by men, but she held her own to the point of showing up most of her peers. If that wasn't enough, she masqueraded as an adventurer who rode a motorcycle and wielded a sword. It was unheard of, and it intrigued him more than any artifact or ancient mystery ever could.

"Why do you do this?" He asked, after deciding that she would appreciate the direct approach.

"All I've done is play nursemaid and feed you breakfast. That's what women are expected to do, right?" She smiled at him over the rim of her coffee cup, but he wasn't going to let her coy act get him off track.

"You did all that after fighting bad guys with a sword and saving my life. You're also an esteemed Egyptologist at the American University, so all of it is unexpected in my opinion."

She shrugged and popped one of the dates into her mouth.

"I could say the same about you. Why does a renowned archeologist teaching at one of the most prestigious universities in the world, moonlight as a soldier of fortune?"

It was a tough question to answer because he wasn't quite sure of the answer himself. It was just something he'd always done; ever since he was a kid. His father was a historian; obsessed with his work throughout his childhood. Some of it must've rubbed off on him because here he was in Egypt instead of home with his son.

He pushed the thought of being like his father out of his head. This was always supposed to be his last adventure before he devoted himself to being a full-time parent. Nothing was going to get in the way of that, especially not this unplanned delay in getting the amulet back.

"It's a hobby," he finally answered, not wanting to give away too much. From her narrowed eyes and inquisitive stare, he knew he'd only succeeded in making her more curious about him.

"A hobby? If I was getting my ribs nearly broken and almost becoming dinner for a crocodile, I'd find a new hobby."

Her teasing only fanned the flames of his attraction but, much to his dismay, she seemed to be only amused by him. He was going to have to up his game.

"You just met me on a bad day," he challenged, but it didn't faze her. She only seemed to grow more entertained by him if that were possible.

"Is that what we're calling it?" She asked, as she did a terrible job of hiding a laugh. If she was any indication, maybe he should've gone into comedy. He was definitely going to have to up his game.

He grumbled, "That's my story and I'm sticking to it. What's yours?"

For a moment, he thought she was going to ignore his question, but instead, she leaned forward across the table and sighed.

"Let's just say, I got tired of watching artifacts go missing from the museum and from dig sites, only to end up in someone's private collection. No one was doing anything about it, so I decided to take matters into my own hands...which brings us back to the Eye of Horus amulet."

"Everyone dismissed Zahrah's Eye as a myth until it turned up in that hidden tomb at Deir el Bahari a few months ago. We think the tomb belonged to Senenmut; architect of Hatshepsut and her supposed lover. The amulet also looks exactly like the one Hatshepsut is often depicted as wearing."

"You were here for the evaluation," she inferred.

"I was working in Abu Simbel when I received a wire from Lacau asking for help because Cairo's most brilliant Egyptologist...his words...was out of the country," he answered; and she dropped her gaze to the floor. He could've sworn he saw her chest swell for a minute there. She quickly shook off any pride she had as a result of Lacau's compliment, and her eyes met his again.

"I go to Paris for a few months and you all manage to find and promptly lose one of the most treasured artifacts we've come across in a long time."

The laugh erupted from him before he had a chance to think about it.

"We didn't lose it, it was stolen," he argued.

She shook her head and laughed right back.

"Same thing."

They stared at each other for a moment; stuck in a moment of comfortable silence that both of them seemed to relish. It had been a long time since he'd been able to just sit and talk about Egyptology with someone who shared his passion for it. It was refreshing in a way he hadn't expected to to be. It also didn't hurt that Dr. Samaha was very easy on the eyes.

He cleared his throat, and said, "Anyway…it took deciphering the hieratic inscribed on the back to conclude that Zahrah's Eye had actually been found."

She nodded and took another bite of her meal. "The amulet may be real, but that doesn't mean the fairytales that go along with it are."

"Real or not, the Nazis want it for a reason, and it's not because it's pretty."

She shrugged and said,"I, for one, don't care why they want it. I just want to make sure they don't get it."

That point was little muddy for him, but he didn't want to get stuck on that. She was obviously a skeptic when it came to the more mythical side of Egyptology, and an argument over the magical properties of Zahrah's Eye would only slow them down.

"Fair enough," he agreed.

"I need to go. I'm meeting a contact who should have some information for me."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

She grabbed another date and moved toward the door.

"No. Stay here and rest. We have a long few days ahead of us."

With that, she disappeared through the door and he stared after her, completely lost under her spell. She may not believe in magic, but she wielded it with ease without even knowing it. She was right. It was going to be a long few days.

* * *

He was sitting outside when she pulled up on her motorcycle. His hair looked dark and wet; and combed back away from his face which was still losing the war, thanks to his scruff straddling the edge of becoming a full blown beard. He was in clean clothes that Rosita must've scrounged up for him, and the stark white shirt made his eyes even more strikingly blue. Not that she noticed that sort of thing.

Dr. Richard Grimes was known for his brilliance in the field of archeology and for his ability to make any woman between the ages of 18 and 70 swoon with just a smile. She hadn't quite confirmed the level of potency, but there was certainly something about him that made her take a second look.

She brought the bike to a stop and frowned at the amount of dust and sand she was covered in, becoming irrationally jealous of the fresh and clean Dr. Grimes. She really wanted long soak in a nice, hot bath back at her apartment in Cairo, but she had a feeling it was going to have to wait till they got to Casablanca. The hangar doors were open and Rosita seemed to be close to finishing getting the plane ready.

Rosita was one of the few people she trusted with the less mainstream part of her life. They'd met in Morocco a few years ago when a recovery mission for an idol from the tomb Tutankhamun went sideways. Rosita had been able to fly her back to Egypt well ahead of the army of goons chasing her; taking off from Casablanca's airstrip under a hail of bullets. They'd bonded during that adventure, and Rosita had become her go to.

She was barely off her bike before Dr. Grimes was standing next to her. Rosita's mother must've let him use the nice soaps because he smelled like jasmine with a hint of sandalwood. The top two buttons of his shirt were left undone, giving her a glimpse of his dark chest hair peeking through. It reminded of her of what he looked like with that shirt off and what those muscles felt like beneath her fingers. She closed her eyes and reminded herself not to stare, as she turned to face him. They were partners; a temporary means to an end. They would get the amulet back and then go their separate ways. She refused to be distracted from the mission by him.

"Any news on where Negan is?" He jumped right to the point and she liked that about him. She'd never had a lot of time for small talk.

"According to my contacts, The Governor has decided to meet them in Casablanca. Negan and his men chartered a ship from El-Dekhelia and they should arrive there in two days," she answered.

"So, what's our next move? I know a guy who could get us to Morocco fast," he began, until the corner of her lips quirked up.

"Already taken care of. We'll be on our way shortly," she explained. "Rosita is getting the plane ready now."

He glanced over to the plane in the hangar and she could've sworn he turned a little bit green.

He swallowed hard and said, "I was afraid of that. Is she a good pilot?"

"Rosita is the best pilot in Africa." She laughed at the unease written all over his face. "Don't tell me the intrepid Dr. Grimes is afraid of flying!"

He glared at her like she'd grown two heads.

"I'm not afraid of flying! I just prefer keeping my feet on the ground."

"I'd love to accommodate your preferences, but we have to beat Negan to Morocco, and the only way to do that is through the air. My source says the sale is set for three nights from now at Hotel Transatlantique."

He whistled low at the name of the most glamorous hotel in Casablanca, and he was right. World leaders and movie stars congregated there over drinks and cigars; ruling the world from their Moroccan vacation.

"Swanky. This…governor…he has expensive tastes."

"He does," she agreed, "He also has a taste for exotic women…"

His eyebrows furrowed for a second, before shooting up to his hairline as his jaw dropped open.

"You're not thinking what I think you're thinking," he said.

This wasn't exactly the way she'd wanted to discuss the plan with him, but it was going to happen sooner or later.

"I'm going to get close to the governor and nick the amulet," she explained.

He blinked a few times before his sarcastic laugh filled the air.

"No offense, but on the list of terrible plans, that one is right there at the top."

She folded her arms over her chest and stared at him, trying and failing to control the anger that laugh had inspired in her.

She retorted, "Oh, really? What do you suggest, then? Going in with guns blazing, getting ourselves killed, and losing the amulet?"

"No, I just think there has to be a better way than using yourself as bait," he snapped.

She poked out her bottom lip, mockingly.

"Aww, huluwti! Are you worried about me? I've been doing this for a long time, Dr. Grimes. I can take care of myself."

For the first time, he bristled at her teasing and she detected a hint of fire behind his icy blue eyes. She'd gotten under his skin and she wasn't sure if it was because he didn't like her idea, or if there was something else.

"I know you can take care of yourself, Dr. Samaha," he said, his tone low and clipped, "but 'ant dhaki jiddaan 'an takun ghabiun!"

Her face flushed and she clenched her fists at her sides. She suddenly wished she'd left him to the crocodiles.

She stalked over to him, not stopping until they were standing toe to toe, and placed both hands on her hips. He didn't back down either. He stood there glaring at her with just as much ire as she felt toward him. The problem was, there was something else there too; something she'd refused to let herself feel in a very long time. When his gaze briefly flicked down to her lips, that feeling solidified into a knot in the pit of her stomach.

Yep. She should've definitely left him tied up next to the Nile. Now she was stuck with him and his ruggedly handsome face and pretty eyes at least until they got the amulet back. That only made her more certain that her plan was the way to go. It was the fastest way to get the amulet and get Dr. Rick Grimes out of her hair for good.

Her jaw tightened and she said, "Well, that's the plan. If you don't like it, you're welcome to stay in Egypt!"

She marched past him toward the hangar where Rosita was working on the plane, making sure to bump him out of her way as she passed. She'd spent too many years proving herself in a field dominated by men who liked to question and second guess her every thought. There was no way she was going to allow him to do the same, regardless of her untimely, and unwanted attraction to him.

Rosita peeked out from under the plane, and became the undeserving focus of the anger she was feeling.

"Is this thing ready to get in the air yet?"

Rosita frowned and replied, "Don't blow your wig! It's almost ready. This is pretty last minute even for you."

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. Rosita was her friend; one of the few people she could count on when she needed help. She didn't deserve to be treated poorly.

"Sorry. I'll owe you for this," she said.

"I'll add it to the other 150 you owe me," she laughed. Rosita nodded toward their guest. "¿Quien es el pote 'e leche?"

She rolled her eyes and glanced outside to where Dr. Grimes was pacing with his hands on his narrow hips and muttering to himself.

"A pain in my ass," she answered.

Rosita smirked and went back to her work.

"Obviously. Who is he other than that?"

She leaned against the plane next to where her friend was working.

"He's an archeologist from America, and let's just say it shows. Against my better judgement, I saved his life last night and now I'm stuck with him."

Rosita looked up and raised an eyebrow.

"Want me to take care of it? You know I will…"  
She shook her head, laughing at the memories of Rosita "taking care of" irritating men in the past. They usually ended up embarrassed and flat broke in an Alexandria bar, begging someone to wire them money to get the hell out of Egypt.

"Not yet. Ask me again when we get to Morocco."

Rosita narrowed her eyes and placed a hand on her jutted out hip.

"Mierda! You like him!"

She shook her head; irritated that Rosita would even insinuate a thing like that.

"I do not! I'm just putting up with him because we have mutual interests."

"Uh-huh…I've never seen a man make you that damn mad and keep breathing. Maybe after you're done with your mutual interests, you can see if he gets you just as hot between the sheets," she proposed, and she didn't know if she was more upset by the suggestion or by the fact that she'd already thought about it.

"Rosie…"

"What? He's cute, he has nice eyes that he can't keep off of you, and he looks like a man who knows how to treat a not so ladylike lady like you. You should take la polla out for a ride," Rosita teased, and her personality was nothing like anyone she'd ever met. Her mother was a quiet Egyptian woman, and her father had been in the Spanish Navy. She could only assume that cursing like a sailor was somehow hereditary.

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth," she asked, but Rosita just kept on grinning.

"This mouth speaks the truth. At least think about it, Mich."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, both to get Rosita off her back and to shake away the idea of having anything more than a working relationship with Dr. Grimes.

"Just let me know when we're ready to take off, ok?"

"I'm almost there. Wanna tell the American to get ready for take off?"

"Fine," she mumbled; fighting to maintain her patience as she walked over to where her "partner" was standing.

As if he sensed her, he turned around, and instead of the scowl she was expecting, he wore a look of contrition. It startled her enough to stop her in her tracks, and she was startled again when his slightly bow legged gait carried him over to her. He rubbed the back of neck before looking up to meet her stare.

"The plane is almost ready. Rosita says we should get ready," she announced.

"Look," he sighed, "I'm sorry for implying that you're stupid. That wasn't the right way to say I don't like your plan." He wasn't going to let go of the fact that he hated her plan, but he was at least willing to admit that he'd communicated that badly. It was more than she'd gotten in past in similar situations, and he earned a little bit of respect because of it.

"Do you have anything better?" She asked.

He shook his head and grinned in that way that lifted his entire expression and made him look younger and almost at ease.

"Not yet, but luckily I've got a long flight to work on it," he answered; that cocky grin firmly in place. She should've known that he wasn't seriously apologizing to her, and she was about to start in on him again the he spoke. "It's just…your plan…it's dangerous. I don't want to see yo...anyone...get hurt or worse."

The genuine concern in his eyes, tempered her anger. He was coming from a place of concern, even though he'd gone about it completely wrong.

"Everything about this life is dangerous," she admitted, "It's what you sign up for when you decide to chase villains around the globe."

He nodded, "I know, but if he's involved with the Nazis like you say he is, this could get ugly fast. If he catches on…"

"If he catches on, I'll handle him."

He tilted his head to one side, and he squinted at her like he was trying to figure something out about her.

"I have no doubt about that," he finally conceded.

They descended into silence as she debated apologizing to him for being so patronizing earlier. He deserved it, but she may have taken it a little too far. He was still wearing that grin that was both sexy and irritating at the same time, so an apology was out of the realm of possibilities.

Instead, she offered, "How about I listen to whatever scheme you come up with, and we'll go from there."

"Deal," he agreed, right before the sight of Rosita moving the plane out of the hangar stole both their attention. "Well, Dr. Samaha, looks like we have a plane to catch," he sighed.

"Indeed we do," she agreed. "I'm going to change clothes and grab my stuff."

She headed back toward the house to grab her things, thinking that if they were going to be working together for the foreseeable future, she was going to have to call him something other than Dr. Grimes.

"By the way," she called over her shoulder, "…you can call me Michonne."

She smiled when she heard his response just as she stepped through the doorway of the house.

"Only if you call me Rick."

* * *

Notes:

1\. Koshari is a dish of spiced lentils and rice with chickpeas and pasta with tomato sauce.

2\. Hawawshi is an Egyptian meat pie. Kinda like an empanada.

3\. Abu Simbel is famous for the Great Temple with the four seated statues of Pharaoh Ramses the Great.

4\. Pierre Lacau was a French Egyptologist who was the director of Egypt's antiquities from 1914-1936.

5\. Etienne Drioton was a French Egyptologist and Director of the Egyptian Wing at the Lourve in Paris.

6\. El-Dekhelia is a port in Egypt.

7\. Hotel Transatlantique is a luxury hotel in Casablanca, built in the 1920s

8\. Huluwti is Arabic for sweetie

9\. 'ant dhaki jiddaan 'an takun ghabiun is Arabic for "how can someone so smart be so stupid" ( I think. You know how online translators can be. Forgive me if it isn't quite right)

10\. ¿Quien es el pote 'e leche? is Spanish for who is the "pot of milk" which is slang for "white person".

11\. La Polla is Spanish slang for "the cock".

This was kind of a filler, but fun I hope. I hope it did a good job setting up the next bit which is Adventure!Richonne in Casablanca. It might be a couple weeks for this. I'm finishing up the Love Tumbles Down update in the next few days (finally, right) and I have a couple of deadlines for other stories I need to meet. This wasn't supposed to be a thing, but it's turning into a thing lol

Thank you all for your support! I love your reviews! They mean so much. Truly.


	3. Casablanca - Part 1

**Hey all! Thank you for the reviews, follows, and faves on this little story! We pick things up with our faves landing in Morocco to chase down The Saviors and the Governor for the amulet…**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

It was a little after noon when their plane landed in Casablanca, and Rick was annoyed from the second he set foot on the ground. Ever since he'd been a passenger on plane that crash landed in the middle of nowhere Tibet, flying hadn't exactly been his favorite thing, but the flight wasn't the source of his bad attitude. He'd spent most of it brainstorming alternate amulet recovery plans for Michonne to shoot holes through. It practically turned into a game of him setting them up just so she could knock them down; his ideas becoming more outlandish just so he watch how she lit up when she laughed at him with her whole body.

That continued until they loudly argued over the merits of attacking Negan and the Saviors as soon as they got into port in Casablanca. He'd thought it was the quickest and easiest way to get the amulet, while she thought it was the quickest and easiest way to get themselves killed. After twenty minutes of back and forth, she'd signaled she was done with the conversation by curling up in her seat and promptly falling asleep.

He'd tried to keep plotting after that, but he kept getting distracted by watching her sleep. It was the only time he could unabashedly admire her without worrying about getting caught. Before falling asleep himself, he spent hours committing every detail about her to his memory. Everything from the way her long eyelashes brushed against her cheeks, to the soft cadence of her obnoxious but still adorable snores, fascinated him. There was something about just being in her presence, that calmed him; even with the trouble they were heading into right on the horizon.

Unfortunately, that contentment didn't last and he was left trying to mask his sudden sullenness. It might have had something to do with the man waiting for them at the airstrip that Michonne identified as Siddiq. Apparently, the younger man with wide, dark eyes, and caramel skin was her Moroccan contact and something about him got under Rick's skin from the beginning.

She greeted him with a hug that lifted her off the ground; making her giggle and Rick wonder if he was more than her Moroccan contact. They beamed at each other as they spoke in very conversational Arabic; touching each other with a frustrating frequency that screamed their relationship was more intimate than just friendship.

At least, that's how he saw it, and he was irrationally upset by it. Of course a woman as accomplished as Michonne Samaha had someone. He been a fool to even think otherwise, but that didn't stop the disappointment and jealousy from swirling around inside of him until it completely consumed him. If they didn't stop gushing all over each other, he was going to snap.

Interrupting them, he asked, "Is this your contact?"

She offered him a backward glance and said, "Siddiq, this is Dr. Rick Grimes. He's assisting me in recovering the amulet."

He was almost offended with how easily she diminished his role in their partnership. However, her tone was light, and there was still that glint of mischief in her smiling eyes; so, without a word, he accepted her friend's extended hand, making sure to give it an extra firm squeeze.

Siddiq said, "It is an honor to meet you, Dr. Grimes. I accompanied Chione to one of your lectures when I was last in Cairo."

The nickname grabbed his attention, making him dislike the man who'd said it a little bit more. Nicknames were familiar; too familiar for someone who was just a contact. He'd only known Siddiq five minutes and he already hated him.

"The mythical daughter of the Nile is an interesting nickname for someone who doesn't believe in magic," he quipped.

Siddiq nodded. "That is exactly why Abu al'asatir called her that when we we young. He would've liked you."

At the mention of the "Father of Myths", Michonne's body stiffened and the smile slipped from her face. There was a story there, and it intrigued him as much as everything else about her did.

"Why?"

"Abu al'asatir was fascinated by Heka and Akhu, and the ideas that you shared at the lecture, were most impressive. Even Chione had to admit that."

He raised an eyebrow, and smirked over at Michonne.

"Most impressive, huh? That's a hell of a compliment," he goaded, and she made a show of rolling her eyes.

"My cousin has a bad habit of being overly effusive," she explained; seeming more flustered than he'd ever seen her, but even that wasn't the reason his mood suddenly shot up. The revelation that Siddiq was her cousin, was the best news he could've heard that day.

"Can we get to the reason we're here? Please?" She asked.

Siddiq nodded and replied, "The thieves are due to arrive at sunset. Cars will be waiting to take them directly to the Governor at Hotel Transatlantique."

Michonne interjected, "Can we take them?"

"The Governor's men will be heavily armed, as will the Saviors. I have men and guns, but we would be severely outnumbered. Also, the authorities have been cracking down on violence within Casablanca city limits. They don't want anything to scare the tourists away."

Michonne turned to him; an eyebrow raised and a smirk on her face that said the words he was sure were on the tip of her tongue. The "I told you so" was coming, and all he could do was brace for it.

Instead, she surprised him by asking, "Are you saying our best bet is to sneak in and steal the amulet after it's in the Governor's possession?" Even though the question was directed to Siddiq, her eyes never left him.

"In this case, the quieter the better. No one wants to end up in a Moroccan jail," replied Siddiq.

Michonne folded her arms over her chest and cocked her head to the side, but there was nothing challenging in her stance.

"Are we going with my plan, now?" She asked; and he understood that she was really asking if he was going to let her do what she needed to do to get the amulet back, or was he going to keep fighting her every step of the way.

He stared at her for a moment, trying to think of any other alternatives but there were none. His mood darkened even further and he rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn't believe he was agreeing to letting her get close enough to the Governor to get the amulet. It was dangerous. If she was recognized by any of Negan's men, or if the Governor caught her, she was dead. But they were out of options, so he promised himself he would do everything her could to help keep her safe.

He turned his attention to Siddiq. "We're going to need a copy of the hotel blueprints, a couple of guns, some knives, and a safe place to hide out," he barked.

A slow smile crossed her lips, and she nodded slightly.

"Also a dress; the fanciest you can find," she paused, thoughtfully appraising him from head to toe before continuing, "…and a tuxedo."

* * *

Hours later, they were holed up in a small apartment on the outskirts of the medina, getting ready to kick off their ambitious recovery plan. Rick had taken a break from thinking about the plan to shower and shave the greying scruff from his face. Then, he slicked his hair back with plenty of pomade till he looked like Clark Gable, before dressing himself in the white jacketed tuxedo Siddiq had scrounged up for him. The look wasn't complete until he strapped a revolver under his jacket, and a dagger at his waist.

When he was done, he barely recognized himself in the mirror. It had been a long time since he'd dressed up like that; his wedding day fifteen years prior had probably been the last time.

He'd been a soldier, fresh from the battlefields of the Great War when he met Lori Parker. He'd survived the war only to come down with the influenza as soon as he got home. She was a nurse at the hospital, and he'd fallen for her while she tended to himself. After the horrors he'd seen during the war, all he wanted was peace and Lori seemed to give him that.

They married, but it didn't take long to see that they weren't well matched. He wanted to show her the world, but she was perfectly content with never leaving Atlanta. He started teaching at Emory University and exploring a little bit on the side, and Lori seemed to resent him a little more with every trip. They were headed toward a separation when she found out she was pregnant. Both of them saw it as a second chance, and he was determined not to mess it up.

After Carl was born, he stopped traveling almost completely. Lori was happy, and so was he until he got the teaching offer from the Oriental Institute. It was his dream to teach there, so against Lori's protests, he moved their family to Chicago. While things weren't perfect, they were good, so he started taking a few speaking offers here and there. It all ended one day when Carl was three, when he got a telegram while lecturing in London that Lori had been struck by a car and killed.

That was almost five years ago, and he was a little embarrassed by how long he'd spent numbing his pain with dangerous adventures and dalliances with women around the globe. But those days were over. Carl was almost nine, and he needed him home. Lori's parents were getting older and it was time he started acting like a father.

So after getting dressed, he went back to the blueprints to look over them one last time. He'd already memorized every exit and potential hiding place in the hotel from top to bottom, but it wasn't enough. An uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, pushed him to keep looking for more. There was no way to know if they'd covered all their bases, but he had to try. If things went sideways, he was determined to get them both out of there alive; with or without the amulet.

He glanced up at the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway, but instead of Michonne, it was Rosita.

"She'll be out in a minute. She isn't exactly the type who likes getting all dolled up," she said.

He nodded and went back to the blueprints, but he could feel Rosita's eyes on him from across the room.

"You got something you need to say to me?" He asked without looking up from his papers.

She stomped across the room and stood so he had no choice but to look at her. Her cap was pulled low over her eyes, but they were narrowed into slits. "Yeah. Michonne is my sister. She's just about the only person in this world besides my mother that I give a shit about. If you don't bring her back from that hotel in one piece, I'll make sure no one ever finds your body. Tu comprende?"

He had no doubts that Rosita was as serious as a heart attack. Still, he met her eye and confidently replied, "Si."

She eyed him a little longer; like she was trying to detect any reason not to trust him with her friend's life.

Finally, she said, "I'm going to help Siddiq get the car ready. It's almost go time." With that, she breezed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

A few minutes later, another set of footsteps emerged from the bedroom.

"I'm ready," Michonne announced; her calm voice drawing his attention from the papers he had scattered across the table. "I still can't believe Siddiq found this ridiculous dress."

She was turned away from him; fiddling with the bottom of the golden dress she'd poured herself into, and ridiculous was just about the last word he'd use to describe her in that dress. It reminded him of something Claudette Colbert would've worn while playing Cleopatra, but Michonne actually looked the part.

The dress was a little too small; a fact that he'd heard Rosita curse about through the thin walls as they tried to get it on. Still, it was too small in all the right places; the silky fabric clung to her every curve and made the skin it left exposed glow, like she'd been dipped in sunlight.

Then, she looked up and the whole was most certainly greater than the sum of its parts. Her braids were pulled back in a low chignon; leaving the delicate features of her gorgeous face on display. Her lips, full and inviting, were painted a dark, vampy red and had captured his complete attention.

If he didn't like her plan before, now he fucking hated it. The very idea of a group of criminals eyeballing her, was already making him angry. Actually seeing it go down…well…he could make no promises on how long he'd be able to stay in the background.

"Think Negan's men will recognize me?" Her question hung in the air between them as she spun around in all her glory. Except for a few thin straps, her back was almost completely exposed, and cut so low that her perfect, apple shaped backside was impossible to ignore. He was sure he'd turned beet red, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

She wrinkled her eyebrows and rested her hands on her hips.

"Rick?"

He blinked out of his inappropriate thoughts and swallowed hard.

"Uh…no. You look amazing. Not at all like someone who would attack them with a samurai sword."

She smiled as she crossed the room, stopping mere inches away from him. He held his breath when she reached out and straightened his bow tie. She was definitely trying to kill him. She had to know what she was doing to him.

"While there is no room to hide my sword in this dress, I do have a few tricks up my sleeve," she teased.

It dawned on him what she was doing when she first came in the room, and a nearly debilitating combination of lust and admiration rushed through him at the mental image of the small daggers he was sure she had strapped to her thighs.

"I'm sure you do."

She grinned. "You clean up good too, Grimes. I've never seen your face like this before." He'd shaved the constant stubble from his face, and from her reaction, he'd have to stay clean shaven.

"I hate these things," he complained; tugging at his collar and unsure if how uncomfortable he felt was a result of the tuxedo or Michonne.

She fluffed the red carnation pinned to his jacket.

"Well, you look good. Nothing at all like a guy you'd want to beat up and leave for dead," she joked.

"Thank God for that," he agreed, laughing through his growing anxiety.

"So what's our exit strategy?"

"If this works and you get close to the Governor, he'll take you here," he said, pointing to an area of the main club indicated as VIP. "I'll still be able to see you, but it'll take me longer to get to you if things go bad."

She just nodded, and kept her eyes trained on the blueprints. If she was worried, she didn't show it. The woman had an unshakable poker face and he hoped she could bluff her way out of any trouble that may pop up.

He continued, "Negan is an idiot, so he'll still have the amulet wrapped in the scarf it was wrapped in when he stole it from me. The Governor won't trust any of his men with it, so he'll have no choice but to keep it on him; a pocket."

"So you're saying I'm going to have to get handsy?" She asked.

He knew it was rhetorical, but there was something in the way she tensed up, that revealed there were things about her plan that even she didn't like.

"This was your plan. Are you still up for this?"

Their eyes met briefly, and her mask of calm was back in place.

"Yeah," she said. He was just about to go back to running through the plan when she added, "Sometimes I wish these Mata Hari missions didn't work as well as they do. But one thing all men who crave power have in common, is their need to be fawned over by a pretty girl."

He understood what she meant, and she was right, but she was more than a "pretty girl". He'd only known her a few days and he already realized that Michonne Samaha was the sort of woman a man fought wars for. She was the perfect combination of every intoxicating quality women held for him. Brilliant, beautiful, funny, strong…he could go on and on. The Governor would be a fool not to get caught in her web. He hated to admit it, but the true source of his worry, was the possibility that their mark wouldn't want to let her go.

He compartmentalized both sets of distracting thoughts so they could refocus on the plans. He'd worry about the second part until they were safely out of the hotel with the amulet. The first part, the part that continued to overwhelm him with every minute he spent in her presence, he'd just have to put on a shelf until after the mission was complete.

He cleared his throat and said, "After you steal the amulet, excuse yourself to go to the powder room. There's a side hallway that leads out to the back. Once I see you headed that way, I'll meet you and we'll get the hell out of 'll hole up someplace in the city, until it's safe to go back to Cairo."

She nodded, and said, "Sounds good."

"Yeah. I think it's gonna work," he agreed, doing his best to tap down all of the misgivings he had about the plan. They were past the point of no return, so there was no benefit to filling her head with all of his doubts. He needed her focused on the mission, not on all the way it could fail.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He looked up at her, confused as what she could possibly be thanking him for. Before he could ask, she continued, "I know you hate this plan, and I know you're doing it for the amulet, but thank you for being all in with it anyway."

The touch of her skin against his, and the fact that it had stopped being just about the amulet somewhere over north Africa, urged him to pull his growing feelings for her out of the box he'd shoved them into. Unable to speak without laying all his cards on the table, he just nodded.

"Well…let's go get this thing started," she said, and he watched silently as she grabbed her tiny handbag and glided toward the door. After a moment to collect his thoughts, he followed; his resolve to get them both through that night alive, even stronger than it had been before.

* * *

_Night and day, under the hide of me _

_There's an, ooh, such a hungry yearning,_

_Burning inside of me_

The sound of music and revelry filled the air of the ballroom at The Hotel Transatlantique. Wealthy tourists were spread as far as the eye could see, dancing and filling themselves with alcohol. Every now and then, one of them would approach Rick at the bar; offering him a drink or sometimes more. He ignored all of them; he had much more important things on his mind, namely keeping an eye on his gorgeous partner as she navigated the lion's den.

He was almost impressed by how quickly Michonne had managed to charm the Governor. From the moment she sauntered up to him with an air of confidence that would make any man take notice, she had him completely wrapped around her finger. Within minutes, he was plying her with wine and inviting her to sit with him at his VIP table. Even though it was making him physically ill to watch, it was working.

He lifted his tumbler of whiskey to his lips, unable to tear his eyes away from her no matter how much he wanted to. He kept telling himself that he was watching for any sign of something going wrong. If she looked as much as uncomfortable, he was going over there, damn the plan. Every time she laughed a little too hard at something that man said, it made his teeth clench but he wasn't going to let the jealousy burning through his veins ruin things. They were almost there. She'd soon have the amulet and they'd get out of there with no one the wiser.

Everything was going well, right up until it wasn't; but even the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed into his side didn't pull his attention away from Michonne.

"Well, well, well. You're looking pretty good for a dead man."

That voice. He recognized that voice and it sent a chill down his spine as its owner slid onto the barstool next to him.

"You ain't even gonna say hi to me, Dr. Grimes?"

"You didn't think I'd give up on the amulet that easily, did you Negan?" He asked; with a grin as he took another sip of his whiskey. He was doing everything he could not let Negan know how shaken he truly was.

"No, but I did not expect you to be sitting at the same bar as me, especially with the samurai here too! That's just some damn serendipity."

At the mention of her, his blood turned to ice. He kept his eyes forward, watching her dance with the Governor, unaware that he was on to her deception.

He'd hoped that it was only him they recognized; that it had been too dark for them to get a good took at her that night in Alexandria, but luck wasn't on their side. The plan was blown to shit, now he needed to figure out how to recover.

"I must say, she is a pretty little thing. Tell me you've at least sampled a piece of that," Negan was trying to goad him into losing his cool, and it was working. He tightened his grip on his glass; his mind racing with ways to get rid of him and get to Michonne. "I can tell by that sour puss look on your face, that you haven't, but you want to. Fuck, man! With an ass like that, I would've given it to her good by now."

He ground his teeth a little harder, and looked over to see Negan's trademark shit eating grin plastered across his face. He wanted to knock his teeth in just for thinking about Michonne that way, but he had to stay calm; he had to think.

"Why don't you just take me to the Governor so we can get this show on the road?"

Negan nudged the gun even deeper into his side; laughing in his teasing, sick way.

"Whoa, there! You're in an awful big hurry to die. Calm down and enjoy your last drink. Besides, the Governor wants to have a little fun with the samurai before he has to kill her."

He'd killed men before. On his adventures, things happened and when it came down to a criminal's life or his own, he'd always chose his own. But this was different. He already knew he was going to kill the man currently holding him at gunpoint, and then he was going to kill that so-called Governor. He refused to entertain any other possible outcome of the situation they were currently in.

He ripped his attention away from Negan, and focused on the area Michonne had been dancing with the Governor. They weren't there. Sweat beaded up on his forehead and his heart threatened to pound right out of his chest, as his eyes quickly scanned the entire VIP area. They were nowhere to be found; and for the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do.

**TBC - So Michonne's plan went sideways. I know it's canon that Michonne is always right, I just wanted to give Rick this one. She'll have plenty of chances to be right later. Thanks for reading and let me know what you think! Next up, we'll see if our faves can get themselves out of this mess. **

_A/N_

_Chione is the ancient Egyptian mythical daughter of the Nile._

_Abu al'asatir is Arabic for Father of Myths._

_Heka and Ahku are ancient Egyptian words for magic._

_A Medina is the old Arab or non-European part of a North African city. _

_The Great War was World War 1 which ended in 1918. Rick went off to war at 18 and returned when he was about 21 making him about 36 in this story. _

_Claudette Colbert played Cleopatra in the 1934 movie._

_Michonne is wearing a 1931 Chanel dress. _

_Clark Gable was probably the biggest movie star of 1935. _

_Rick's tux is a duplicate of the one Indiana Jones is wearing at at the beginning of Temple of Doom. _

_Lyrics are from Night and Day, a 1931 jazz standard written by Cole Porter._


	4. Casablanca - Part 2

**First of all, thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, liked, and reblogged this story. I'm so happy that so many of you seem to enjoy it. Keep letting me know what you think about it. **

* * *

**Chapter Four - Casablanca Part 2**

Imram Samaha used to say, "_Chione, may God be between you and harm in all the empty places where you must walk". _It was his way of telling her to be careful, whether she was going to school or to the market for her mother. As the only young, dark-skinned girl in their Paris neighborhood, one could never be too careful; but her father was adamant that his only child would have an education beyond what was offered to girls in Egypt.

In Cairo, Abu al'asatir had made a point of allowing her to accompany him while he worked for the Supreme Council of Antiquities as an excavation site manager for egyptologists at Giza and in the Valley of the Kings. When he was asked to accompany one of them to Paris to be his assistant while lecturing at the Sorbonne, he'd agreed under the condition that he could bring his family so his daughter could attend school.

She did go to school and eventually university; where she studied the Egyptology her father had learned through years of working at dig sites. He never got to see her follow in his footsteps and eventually surpass all of his wildest dreams for her, but she was sure he was proud of her; even though she was also sure that he was currently rolling over in his grave. There was no way he'd approve of the way she was using that education he'd worked so hard for her to have as she navigated the VIP area on the arm of the Governor…or Phillip as he insisted she call him.

This was the kind of thing Abu al'asatir wanted her to be educated enough to avoid; and here she was running right into it. There was really no other choice though. Her father had taught her to love the history of her people, and so much of it had been destroyed or snatched away only to end up in museums and private collections around the world. She refused to let them take anything else. He'd been obsessed with preserving the mysticism. Her passion was in preserving the artifacts.

That's why she'd been willing to attack Negan and his men on her own in Alexandria, and team up with Dr. Grimes to retrieve the amulet from the Governor. He was another American; with an accent similar to Rick's but it was smarmy and condescending, where Rick's was warm and inviting. He reminded her of few of the archeologists she'd met from the Ivy League universities in America, who always asked her to fetch them coffee before being told she was their peer, instead of their servant.

The man they called the Governor wasn't too different. She'd quickly assessed her mark within minutes of seeing him; deciding that the shy coquette act wasn't going to work for him. Instead, she was more herself when she walked over to him carrying two French 75's. She'd offered him one in exchange for his company, and while it was a provocative move, he'd taken the bait.

He stared at her like she was an oddity; like he'd never spoken to a woman like her in public before and maybe he hadn't. He seemed a little shaken by the fact that he was attracted to her; something she'd picked up from the way he kept looking at her and licking his lips like a hungry dog looking at a bone. He disgusted her; but the plan was working and that was all that mattered.

Except for a few minutes he'd spent talking to an "associate" as he'd called it, Phillip hadn't left her side. Now, they were in the VIP area just as Rick had predicted; and his jacket pocket bulged open from the weight of the amulet. He made sure she never held an empty glass; unaware that she had the constitution of a man twice her size thanks to Rosita, her love of ouzo, and an interesting night in Athens.

As he got drunker, she played along by giggling and getting a little touchy with him; getting him used to feeling her hands on him so when she slipped her hand into his pocket, it wouldn't set off any red flags.

She bit her tongue and ignored the racist things he tried to twist into compliments. He called her beauty "exotic" and his attraction to her "strange". He praised her pronunciation and intelligence as rare qualities for a woman of her race. He lamented the fact that the "negro gals" back home could never catch his eye even though he'd heard they were something else in the bedroom. It was nothing she hadn't heard before, but coming from him, it sickened her more than it usually did.

She'd allowed him to pull her close into his side on the velvet couch, as he held court with his minions, trying to see just how close he'd let her get to the treasure he was just going to hand over to the Nazis for a fee. When he'd asked her to dance, she'd agreed; anything to keep his attention solely on her.

As he clumsily guided them around the dance floor, in the back of her mind, she wondered what Rick was doing, even though she already knew he was somewhere watching her like a hawk. She could practically feel his warm gaze on her from wherever he was. She took a sip of her drink, and her mind wandered to a vision of him in his tuxedo that she had to get rid of quickly. The man was attractive when he was scruffy and covered in dirt; clean shaven and dressed up, he was practically deadly.

She couldn't deny that there was something in the air between them. The blush that had appeared on his cheeks as she straightened his tie was just another thing to add to the list of signals he'd unconsciously been sending her. Maybe Rosita was right. Maybe once they got the amulet back, she would take some time to get to know Rick Grimes a little better.

The Governor's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Darling, I want you to come with me. I want to show you something."

She glanced around, surprised to see that he'd danced them close to the hallway that was supposed to be her escape route. He didn't give her a chance to respond; taking her hand and leading her to the first door in the hallway. He ushered her inside and closed the door behind him, and she thought she heard the click of the lock being turned.

It was a small but still ornate smoking lounge, with a few turquoise velvet couches in the center of the room, and a gilded mirror hanging over the fireplace. It was a place designed for making a move on a woman; but it was also a good place to take the amulet without worrying so much about being quiet about it.

She walked over to the mirror and pretended to fuss with her hair and her make up.

"You never told me what brought you to Morocco," she said.

She saw his reflection smiling at her from his place against the door, and it sent a chill down her spine.

He answered, "I'm an antiques dealer, and I was notified by one of my sources that an object that would make one of my buyers extremely happy would be hitting the market here."

"You've traveled a very long way. It must be very valuable."

"To my buyer, it's priceless. Would you like to see it?"

Hoping to lure him in even more, she mustered her best, coy smile and bit her lip as she stared over at him.

She replied, "I admit, I am a little curious about what would lure a man halfway around the world."

He narrowed his eyes and walked over to stand behind her. She had to control her shock when he slung the thick, gold chain over her head, allowing the amulet to fall heavy against her chest. The hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood at attention.

"This…is Zahra's Eye," he said; grinning like he'd found it himself instead of employing a gang of thieves to steal it from the Cairo Museum.

Being that it was the first time she'd ever laid eyes on it, the amulet commanded her attention for a minute and she suddenly understood why everyone was calling it Zahra's Eye. If she had to guess, she say it was around 6 inches by 6 inches in size and weighed over a pound. The gold rim caught the light in the room, sparkling like it wasn't nearly 5000 years old. The sapphire eye itself shone an electric blue in the middle of the the colors painted around it. It was just an Eye of Horus, but there was something different about it. It was too well preserved, too perfect to have just been recovered from a tomb.

She couldn't believe her luck. Here she was, worrying about how to get the amulet, and he just used it as a thing to impress her with.

He asked, "What do you think of it?"

His voice made her flinch out of her thoughts but she had to keep him talking long enough for a plan to come together in her head.

"It's beautiful; but why is it so special?" She asked.

"Egyptian legend says it was forged by the goddess Isis to bind the soul of the mortal woman her son had fallen in love with…"

She tuned out as the Governor poorly recited the story she'd first heard as a little girl. Back then, it was a myth her father liked to tell her before bed; the Egyptian version of a fairy tale without the happy ending.

Horus was the prince of the Egyptian pantheon who fell in love with a mortal woman. Before he could take her to Ta Neter as his wife, she was murdered by his uncle Set; an innocent casualty in their millennia long battle. Horus was devastated. Isis couldn't bear to see her only son so broken, so she created the amulet and bound Zahra's soul to it. One day, Zahra's reincarnation and the amulet would be reunited, making her a goddess and reuniting her with Horus forever.

It was nothing more than romantic nonsense, which made the fact that the Nazis wanted the amulet, even more inexplicable. She didn't have time to think about that though. Right then, she had the amulet around her neck and she needed to find a way to escape with it without causing a scene.

He finished his pedestrian retelling of the myth and paused as if he was waiting for her to respond.

She asked, "Didn't the Greeks have dozens of stories featuring gods falling in love with mortals? What makes this one so special?"

She already knew the answer to her question. Her father used to say, _a diamond found in a mine is nothing special. But a diamond found in a pit of stones is rare_. The uniqueness of a story like this in Egyptian mythology is what allowed it to endure. A god such as Horus lowering himself to be with a mortal...a peasant at that...was practically sacrilegious.

The Governor had no answer for her, mumbling something about "ridiculous ancient beliefs" before smirking at their reflections in the mirror and placing his cold hands on her bare shoulders.

He asked, "What do you think of the story, my dear?"

"It's interesting," she replied.

"I thought so too; but I'm sure you've heard it all before, Dr. Samaha."

Her heart raced and her breath caught in her chest as his fingertips ground into her skin. She lifted her gaze to meet his in the mirror; the sadistic grin dancing on his lips told her everything she needed to know.

"You know who I am," she said.

He nodded, and she kept her eyes trained on his in the mirror; refusing to allow her panic to show even though it was threatening to swallow her whole. Her cover was blown, meaning he knew about Rick too. She didn't know if she was more upset about the possibility of dying or the surety and the quantity of I told you so from Dr. Grimes. If they made it out of this mess alive, she'd never hear the end of it.

Her heart began beating harder and faster in her chest as thoughts of Rick rubbing this in, faded and were replaced with thoughts of him being caught too. He could be dead already for all she knew, and that possibility was too much to process.

The Governor's slow drawl yanked her out of her thoughts.

"This doesn't have to end in a fight. I'm sure we could work something out."

"What kind of deal are you offering?" She asked; keeping her tone even and unbothered; like having a sadistic kingpin's hands in striking distance of her neck was nothing she needed to worry about.

He smiled like a cat about to devour its prey.

"Stay here in Casablanca as my guest for the duration of my visit, and I won't hand you over to the people I procured the amulet for. They're far less...accommodating of people like you."

She knew exactly what he meant. He wanted her to warm his bed in exchange for her life. The Nazis were intolerant of anyone who didn't have white skin, and even those with white skin and the wrong heritage weren't safe from the rabid nationalism of the German fuhrer. Turning her over to them was a death sentence and staying with him in Morocco wasn't an option.

"There is a third option," she offered.

He laughed smugly.

"And what is that?"

She shrugged. "I could take the amulet back to Cairo where it belongs."

She accomplished a few things in quick succession. Her elbow struck him right under his bottom rib, the 3 inch heel of her satin shoe wedged itself onto the top of his wingtip, and his grip on her loosened enough for her to turn around and connect her fist with his throat.

The knowledge she'd gained in those French classrooms and through books wasn't the only education her father thought was important for her to have. He also made sure she knew how to defend herself by teaching her how to use knives and the shamshir, and letting her spar with her male cousins while the other girls learned how to keep house.

The Governor groaned and fell to the floor, and she reached under her dress to retrieve one of the knives stopped to her thigh. He grabbed her ankle, trying to pull her down but she stabbed his hand with the small dagger, hoping she'd impaled him to the floor. He screamed and released her but he didn't give up.

"You're not leaving here with the amulet!"

"Watch me!"

She pulled her shoes off because she had a feeling she was going to have to run at some point, and those heels were not going to cut it. She held them like weapons and started for the door, but somehow the Governor made it to his feet. He grabbed her wrist and spun her around to face him.

"I won't let you leave with it," he said; grabbing the amulet with his injured hand so could snatch it from her neck.

She waited to hear the chain snap, and when it didn't, she was just as confused as he looked. His face went pale and his brow furrowed, and he began shaking his head in something close to disbelief.

"What the…," he began, but the rest was lost in a howl of pain as the smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils. She had to cover her mouth to hold in her own scream as she watched him fall to his knees at her feet; clutching his trembling hand.

She couldn't move; she couldn't breathe. It was taking everything she had to convince herself that she wasn't imagining what she was seeing, as every prayer she knew ran through her head. She'd never believed in magic because it was something she couldn't see with her own eyes, but she could no longer say that. All five of her sense experienced this moment of revelation, leaving her mind wide open and her father's obsession less of a mystery.

She tore her eyes away from the wailing man curled up in the fetal position at her feet, and glanced at the bloody amulet around her neck, which inexplicably held no heat against her chest. Abu al'asatir was now laughing in his grave; undoubtedly amused by how far the gods had to go to win his daughter's belief.

Under normal circumstances, her mind would be working to provide a reasonable explanation for what she'd witnessed. This time, she accepted that there was no point in applying logic to it and focused on getting out of there and finding Rick. The reasons for the amulet coming to life to protect her, would have to be put away to be deciphered later.

She sent up a silent prayer that Rick was waiting for her at the rendezvous point and tightened her grip on her shoe. She brought it repeatedly across the governor's face; beating him until the heel broke and he was left bruised, passed out, and unable to follow her. She dropped her shoes and searched him for a weapon; sighing in relief when she found a revolver at his ankle. She missed her sword, but this gun was going to have to do.

She moved over to the door and cracked it open. Seeing that the hallway was empty, she stepped out and pulled the door shut behind her before turning to walk down the hallway.

Her heart leapt to her throat when she heard footsteps approaching fast from behind. She cocked the gun and spun around, ready to fire.

The sight of Rick Grimes running toward her, hair mussed and bleeding from a gash across his nose and his dinner jacket missing, made her breath catch in her throat and was almost enough to bring a tear to her eye. He paused a few inches away from her; his eyes wide and panicked when they darted from her face, to the amulet around her neck, and to the blood all over her.

"It's not mine," she said, eager to calm him down.

He released a breath and a small smile crossed his lips.

"Oh, thank God!"

He didn't waste any more time in grabbing her and crushing her to his chest. He held her like she was a precious treasure before pulling back just enough to crush his soft lips to hers, and his thumbs traced circles just below her ears. The kiss was brief; his lips roughly covering hers for a few seconds, but passionate enough to leave her shaken. It was certainly something she wanted to explore later.

He pulled away with a jolt, and his eyes went back to being wide and panicked. After taking a step back, he let his hands drop from her face.

"Um…I…," he stuttered; adorably if she was being honest, and he pulled his hands through his hair.

She shook her head and said, "Later. Right now, we need to get out of here."

He nodded and grabbed her hand so they could continue down the long hallway toward the rear door.

"C'mon. Negan and his goons are right behind me and the cops are on their way."

"What happened?"

"Negan snuck up on me. I had to start a bar fight to get away," he explained, as they made it to the back door and out into the alley. "Where the hell is Siddiq?!"

She looked around for the car her cousin was supposed to be waiting for them with and it was nowhere to be found. The sound of sirens in the distance was getting closer and she glanced over her shoulder to see Negan and a group of men headed their way with guns drawn. They had to get out of there fast.

"They must've made all the cars move," she said, looking around for anything that could help them; smiling when she spotted an old motorcycle leaning against the building. "There!"

She ran over to the motorcycle and she struggled with her dress before grabbing the handlebars to straddle the bike when Rick grabbed her arm.

"Oh hell no! I'm driving this time. Get on!"

She rolled her eyes as he sat on the motorcycle and started it up. There was no time to argue, so she just shoved her gun into his hip holster, jumped on the back of the bike, and wrapped her arms around him.

"Go!" She screamed, and the motorcycle was off like a shot. Rick navigated the Casablanca streets like he'd been driving them his entire life. She thought they might be safe until she heard the roar of a car engine coming up fast behind them.

She glanced over her shoulder and the black, Ford De Luxe sped up until it was right next to them. Negan stuck his head out of the window, wearing that shit eating grin and holding a rifle; and she knew she had to do something or they weren't going to make it.

She grabbed the gun Rick wore in his hip holster, and aimed it at the whitewall of the tire before squeezing the trigger. The smile on Negan's face faded into panic when the rubber exploded, sending the car careening off the road and crashing into the side of a building where it burst into flames.

Rick yelled, "Nice shot", but her relief was short lived when she saw another car coming up fast behind them.

She warned, "Six o clock!"

"Goddammit! Hold on," he commanded, and she did as she was told. He was heading toward the medina. The narrow, old city streets were perfect for a motorcycle, and it was doubtful that a car would be able follow them. All they had to do was get there, and Rick was pushing that old motorcycle to its limit. She prayed that it would hold on just a bit longer, but the car was gaining on them.

She yelled, "Go faster!"

"What do you think I'm trying to do," he replied.

The car was almost on them; she could see the passengers sticking their guns out the window. If they didn't make it to the medina, they were going to die in the middle of the street.

He turned down the next alley, and she felt him stiffen when they saw that the route into the medina was blocked by a car.

"What do we do now?" She asked.

"Do you trust me, Michonne?"

She looked over his shoulder and saw what he was planning to do. There was some staging from a building project along the side of one of the buildings. He was going to use it as a ramp to jump the car. There was a chance the staging wouldn't hold the weight and they'd die after crashing to the ground. There was a also a chance that they wouldn't clear the car.

"Yes," she answered; a little too quickly but it was the most true thing she'd said all night, despite the uncertainty about what they were about to do.

"Whatever you do, don't let go of me!"

He revved the engine, forcing the motorcycle to its top speed. They were going so fast that she had to close her eyes and press her face against his back.

The wood staging bowed and creaked underneath the weight of the bike, but it held, and soon they were airborne; the back wheel of the bike clearing the car by less than an inch. They landed hard on the cobblestone; forcing Rick to use all of his strength to keep it upright and under control long enough for them to ride into the medina.

He skidded to a stop and they jumped off; running hand in hand though the darkened streets toward the safe house.

"Chione!" She turned at the sound of her name and found Siddiq poking his head around a corner and wildly gesturing them his way. She didn't know how he found them, but she was glad he did.

They ran over to him and he swept them into the house and over to a door in the floor. She was first down the short ladder, followed by Rick and Siddiq. She thankfully threw her arms around her cousin.

"How did you," she began.

"They made me move the car but I was watching you from a distance," Siddiq explained.

"What is this place?" Rick asked.

"It's an old wine cellar, and my back up safe house. They will be searching for you, but they will not find you in here. I will return for you as soon as I can," answered Siddiq. "I didn't have time to check it, but there are blankets to make pallets on the floor, and a little bit of food and water. Just make sure you stay quiet."

They both nodded; watching as Siddiq climbed out of the cellar and sealed it shut behind him. They were thrust into darkness when Siddiq pulled a rug over the door.

She could barely see her hand in front of her face, but Rick was already spreading out the blankets so they would have a place to rest. She felt his fingers wrap around her wrist and he pulled her over to the makeshift bed where she sat down next to him.

They sat there recovering for a while; it could've been a few minutes or a few hours, but they didn't talk. They just sat there with her thigh pressed against his, sharing their body heat. The dirt floor was damp enough to feel through the thin blankets they were sitting on, and the contact made it warm and bearable.

"Jesus. That was close."

She nodded. They had made it. Even though her plan was busted, somehow they'd escaped with the amulet and their lives. It was a miracle.

"Even though things went slightly left," she began, but stopped when he snorted. Side by side, she could barely make out his face in the darkness, but she shivered when she felt his warm breath against her ear.

"Slightly," he whispered.

She shrugged at his incredulity.

"We got the amulet. Je ne regrette rien!"

His warm, low rumble of laughter filled the room for just a moment before it went silent again.

"A vaincre sans peril, on triomphe sans gloire," he said; and of course he spoke French. Along with German, it was the language of Egyptology as most of the textbooks on the subject were written in them.

She pulled the amulet from around her neck, and held the now completely ordinary item in her hand. Now that they were more or less "safe", her mind flooded with the gravity of what she'd seen it do. The Eye of Horus was a symbol of protection, but causing a man's hand to spontaneously combust wasn't something that was supposed to happen. She wracked her brain, trying to remember anything her father had told her about Zahra's Eye that would explain what she'd seen, but none came to mind.

She dropped the item onto the blanket next to her, figuring it was too dark to inspect it any further and rested her head against Rick's shoulder. She was going to have to tell him what happened, but not right then. Right then, all she wanted to do was celebrate the fact that after everything, they both were still alive and their mission was halfway done. All that remained was getting the amulet back to Cairo, and then they would go back to their lives.

The thought of being free of Rick Grimes didn't bring her the joy it once did. Instead, it brought a sense of urgency; like she didn't have too much time left to explore the longing he inspired in her. It had been too long since she felt those stirrings for anyone, but his brief kiss had awakened that part of her and it wanted more.

"Are you sure you're ok? That was a lot of blood," he said, interrupting her thoughts.

She thought about what it must've looked like to him when he rounded that corner and saw her standing there with the amulet around her neck and her arms and dress stained red. She'd glimpsed a bit of it through the worry and fear in his eyes before she said she was ok. She'd also felt his relief when he'd kissed her.

She answered, "I told you, none of it is mine. Not a scratch on me as a matter of fact. You, on the other hand, are going to have a scar."

The cut on his nose was deep and she had no ability to stitch it up. He'd have a jagged scar there, marring his perfect features.

"Won't be the first...or the last," he said.

"It's a shame though. That pretty face of yours should remain unblemished."

"Why, Dr. Samaha! Are you making a pass at me?"

Her face warmed, but she had no intention of walking back her comment. In for a penny, in for a pound. Instead, she took his hand and pulled it into her lap.

"You started it when you kissed me in the hallway."

He didn't say anything for a long moment that made her wonder if he regretted those few seconds of intimacy. When he finally spoke, his words were no higher than a whisper.

"I guess I didn't think you'd be interested in finishing it," he said.

He was leaning his head back against the wall, making it very easy for her to kiss him along his angular jawline. When she did, he didn't react; she wasn't even sure he was breathing until he sighed before she felt his fingers reach up to caress her cheek.

"Michonne," he whispered; the question he was asking her, completely clear in that one word and in his gentle touch.

"I want this," she replied, "and I want it with you." Even in the dark, she could see his eyes widen, just before she pressed her lips against his.

There was no hesitation this time; no moment for her to wonder how he felt. His soft lips parted immediately at the contact, leaving his hot mouth open to her. He kissed her greedily, hungrily; like he was a man starved of affection for a very long time.

His hand moved from her face to the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. Holding her still as her plundered her mouth with his lips, teeth, and tongue.

She grabbed on to his collar, using it as a tether to keep her grounded. His kisses made her lightheaded, but she wanted more of them. If they had to hide in that cellar for days with nothing but each other, she'd be fine with that. As long as he didn't stop kissing her, they'd be just fine.

His hand had just moved under her dress and along her thigh when light filtered into the room as the rug was pulled from over the door. They'd been so wrapped up in each other that they hadn't heard the footfalls above them.

He reached for his gun, but she stilled his hand. The Governor's men wouldn't have been so quiet.

"It's Siddiq," she said, and her assumption was proven right when the door opened and his voice floated down to them.

"Chione! Dr, Grimes! It is safe to move. I brought clothes for you both," her cousin announced before stepping on the ladder. Even when he was pulling her hair as a little boy and chasing her with snakes, she'd never wanted to murder Siddiq as much as she did right then.

She and Rick jumped apart, and his flushed face and neck were on display as was the evidence of his attraction to her. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. There wasn't a hint of shame or regret in his darkened eyes that swirled with desire and remained fixed on her.

Warmth rushed her face, and she had to get away from the intensity of his stare. She clamored to her feet, but Rick took firm hold of her wrist.

"We're not done here," he growled. His voice, commanding and confident, peaked her arousal and sent tremors rushing through her body.

Siddiq entered the room, forcing her to nod her response. It was for the best though. She feared she be unable to speak without it turning into some kind of desperate moan resulting from the frenzy he'd left her in.

Rick's hand fell away from her wrist, allowing her to go meet her cousin. As she took the bag of clothes he'd brought for them, her mind wandered forward to the moment she and Dr. Grimes would be able to pick up where they left off.

* * *

_So...will Rick and Michonne find time to continue their "discussion"? Will they make it back to Cairo safely? Most importantly, what's going on with the amulet? This just keeps getting curiouser and curiouser... ;) Please let me know what you think!_

Notes:

1\. "May God be between you and harm in all the empty places where you must walk" is an Ancient Egyptian blessing.

2\. A French 75 is a World War 1 drink made from gin, Champagne, lemon juice, and sugar.

3\. Ouzo is a greek liquor

4\. Ta Neter is the Egyptian "holy land" or where the gods live

5\. Isis is the Egyptian goddess of motherhood, marriage, fertility, magic, and medicine; and also mother to Horus, the Egyptian god of the sky

6\. Set (or Seth) is the Egyptian god of Chaos, the desert, storms, disorder, and violence. He is the brother of Isis and uncle to Horus. According to legend, "…Horus thereupon did battle with Set, the victory falling now to one, now to the other. Horus and Set, it is said, still do battle with one another, yet victory has fallen to neither…" - Egyptian Myths and Legends by Lewis Spence

7\. A shamshir is a type of middle eastern sword like a katana.

8\. Je ne regrette rien means "I regret nothing"

9\. "A vaincre sans peril, on triomphe sans gloire" means "To win without risk is a triumph without glory


	5. Fugitives

_Thank you to everyone who read the last chapter and for the follows, favorites and reviews! It really means a lot!_

* * *

**Chapter Five - Fugitives**

In the middle of the fight with Negan, all Rick had been able to think about was Michonne. Aside from wanting to survive long enough to tell her I told you so, he'd needed to know that she was ok.

His heart had been in his throat at the thought of her being in danger, and it made it hard to focus on the fight. It was probably why Negan had been able to land the punches that had led to the gash over his nose. It had also been the reason he'd been willing to use a few stray punches to turn the hotel ballroom into the scene of an old fashioned bar room brawl. It had only taken a few seconds for the whole room to erupt into a free for all of punches, kicks, and broken chairs.

By the time he'd fought his way out of it, his knuckles were left bleeding and bruised while blood poured out of the wound over his nose; but all of that had faded away the instant he saw her in the hallway.

She'd been wearing the amulet around her neck, and she'd looked frightened but fierce; beautiful but disheveled. Above all of that, she was unharmed and that erased any residual desire to gloat over the fact that he'd been right about her plan the whole time.

He'd imagined the worst since the moment he'd realized their cover was blown, and finding her safe had been a blessing. But then he'd kissed her, and in the moment, he'd chalked it up to a mixture of adrenaline and relief. He knew better though; he'd known better even as he'd stared into her stunned eyes moments after his lips left hers.

As the night had devolved further into something out of a pulp comic book, he hadn't found time to think about the repercussions of that first, impulsive kiss before he was kissing her again. After that, his ability to think had been severely compromised. Moreover, he was sure that if Siddiq hadn't interrupted them he wouldn't have been able to think about anything clearly for a very long time.

If he was thinking with his right mind, he was grateful for the intrusion. Michonne deserved more than a hurried tryst on a dirt floor. However, if he let his desire cloud his conscience, he could visualize his hands wrapped around Siddiq's throat. From his reddening face and fast speech, Siddiq seemed to be well aware of his bad timing.

After an hour of plotting out the plan to get back to the apartment and eventually back to Cairo, Michonne disappeared into the shadows to change into the clothes Siddiq had brought for her, while he did the same.

When Michonne emerged from the shadows, she was covered from head to toe in black robes that left only her eyes visible. She glanced at him briefly; the crinkling at the corners of her dark eyes betraying the smile he was certain she wore on her lips.

Nervousness bubbled up in his throat at the thought of her going out there without him, but it was for the best. The governor's men were looking for them to be together, so separating was his idea to move under the radar, back to the other safe house where they would stay until it was safe to go back to Cairo.

He wasn't sure how long that would be, but he didn't care. His whole body flushed at the thought of all the ways they could pass the time while hiding out. The memory of their stunning and, thanks to Siddiq, too brief kiss consumed his thoughts. Her warmth lingered on his lips, and he still felt the ghost of her fingers against his cheek. He'd been dead serious when he'd told her that they weren't finished, but just that little taste made him wonder if he could ever be finished with her.

He was dragged from his lascivious thoughts by her twirling around in the center of the room like she was modeling the latest fashions.

"Think I'll fit in out there?" She asked; amused like they didn't have a gang of criminals searching for them.

"They won't suspect a thing," he agreed; the bustle of the market getting started for the day filled the room, signaling them that it was time to get moving. "You and Siddiq go first, and I'll follow a little later. As soon as I don't think I'm being followed, I'll meet you at the safe house."

She nodded; doing a terrible job of hiding how much she hated this plan, but she wasn't going to change his mind. In that niqab, she would blend in with all the other women going about their business in the streets of the medina. She and Siddiq would stop at the different stalls, buying basic things just like everyone else in the medina, before heading back to the apartment where she and the amulet would be safe.

He purposely made it sound so simple in his head, but he was well aware of all the ways this plan could go wrong, especially since Michonne had listed them all alphabetically while arguing against it.

She took down the piece of fabric covering her face and he was once again struck dumb by just how gorgeous she was. There was no doubt in his mind that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but she was practically irresistible. Everything about her seemed to be made just for him, right down to her sharp wit and her brilliant mind.

She made him wonder what his life could've been like had he met her sooner. Of course, he wouldn't trade his son for anything; but he couldn't stop himself from imagining a life where he could share his whole self with a partner who understood his passion for his work. It would've been so very different.

They'd only kissed twice, but she made him think that maybe it wasn't too late for him to start over. Maybe he could find a way to hold on to the strange feelings she'd ignited in him.

Her soft voice pulled him out of his head just as he started wondering if she liked kids and it was just in time.

"No offense, but on the list of terrible plans, this one is right there at the top."

She was smiling, but it didn't reach her eyes. They were sad, and filled with concern over his ability to to navigate unseen through the city streets.

He smiled back, remembering their initial confrontation and how her fire and strong willed nature had him halfway gone for her that first day.

"That sounds familiar. Maybe I'll get another chance to say I told you so out of this plan," he replied.

She frowned; his attempt to halt the impending sense of dread surrounding them, falling flat.

"We have unfinished business," she breathed; her onyx eyes pleading with him to come back to her. "Be careful."

"I will be." he murmured, before brushing his fingertips across her cheek and mustering his best half smile.

Ignoring the fact that Siddiq was in the room, he moved his other hand to her waist; pulling her in close before leaning in and brushing his lips against hers. He felt her soft sigh against his lips, as her eyes fluttered closed and she relaxed into him.

Kissing Michonne was like having every secret of the universe revealed to him. There was a bit of shock and awe over just how amazing she felt in his arms, followed by an awakening as she invaded each of his senses. Last, came the understanding that finding Michonne on his last adventure couldn't have been anything but fate because she was everything he'd been searching for his whole life. The woman in his arms was worth more than any ancient treasure he could ever hope to find.

They pulled apart, and he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead to say he would do everything in his power to make his way back to her. His motivation for surviving the dozens of sticky situations he'd found himself in over the years, had always been getting home to his son. Now, he had two things to fight like hell for.

He noticed Siddiq waiting impatiently in the corner, and no matter how much he wanted to keep holding on to Michonne, he had to let her go.

He refastened the fabric over her face, and took a step back.

"Go. You need to be in the crowd with the others," he said; hating the way his voice cracked.

Like she knew his resolve was hanging by a thread, she just nodded and went to join her cousin; disappearing through the door with him a few seconds later.

* * *

He waited about an hour before pulling the hood of the beggar's cloak Siddiq had brought for him, up over his head and venturing out into the street. The sound of stall owners haggling with customers and the savory smell of shawarma and spicy harissa overwhelmed his senses. It also reminded him of the fact that expect for a few slices of bread, he hadn't eaten anything substantial since they'd left Alexandria. He hoped that Siddiq and Michonne had bought food while pretending to be normal shoppers in the medina.

He tugged the hood down over his eyes and kept his head down as he slowly maneuvered himself through the crowd. He'd stop and beg a passerby for a few coins every now and then, trying to keep up the rouse of his status. Their safe house was on the outskirts of the medina; almost bordering the desert. He had about a mile and a half of city to make it through unseen.

He was so focused on keeping his head down that he was surprised when he walked into another person. He mumbled an apology in Arabic before stepping around the figure, but the man blocked his path.

His stomach lurched as he lifted his head to see the smirking face of one of the men who'd been trying to throw him into the Nile before Michonne scared him off. He had greying, dark hair that was balding in the front and a handlebar mustache that made him look like a villain in a silent movie. His dark eyes were filled with malice but also held a glint of perverse pleasure.

He stepped back just as a pair of large hands clamped down on his shoulders to keep him in place.

"Dr. Grimes! You're a hard man to track down," the man laughed. "There's someone who wants to have a conversation with you."

He shook his head. "I'm not feeling too hospitable today, gentlemen. Maybe some other time."

"It's not exactly optional," the man replied; turning to go into the small cafe they were standing in front of. "Joey, please escort Dr. Grimes inside."

The hands on his shoulders forced him to follow, coming to a stop at a table in the back corner. The man at the table wore a fedora pulled low over his battered and bruised face and he wore a patch over his right eye.

He stirred his coffee with one hand, but the other was wrapped in bandages and in a sling over his chest. He was barely recognizable without his fancy clothes, but there was no doubt to his identity.

Rick struggled fruitlessly as the hands on his shoulders forced him down into the empty chair at the table, and the man known as the Governor looked up at him with a dark grin.

"Rick Grimes, I'm Phillip Blake. We've never met, but you have something I want."

Rick surveyed the small cafe they were in, taking note of every potential escape route. A hallway with a back door at the end of it, two windows open to the air off to his right, a trapdoor in the floor right next to the bar that probably led to a cellar similar to the one he'd just left, and the door they came in were all he came up with but he could work with that in a pinch.

He wasn't too worried about getting out of there. The two guys who'd manhandled him into the cafe, hadn't found the dagger tied to his ankle. Aside from being stupid, they didn't look that tough, and from the looks of it, the governor himself had obviously seen better days.

He'd definitely gotten out of stickier situations with only a few scars to show for it, but this time though, he had to be cautious. It wasn't just him at risk. If he escaped too recklessly, they could follow him back to Michonne and the amulet. That was something he refused to let happen.

"Can I offer you a coffee?"

The Governor's drawl reminded him of his childhood in Georgia and the man himself reminded him of everything about that backwards, antebellum world he'd put behind him when he left.

He mustered up some of that good southern hospitality his mother had ingrained in him, and shook his head as congenially as he could considering he was basically a hostage.

"No, thank you. How about you tell me what you think I have so we can both be on our way."

Blake nodded and lifted the little, porcelain cup to his lips before speaking.

"Last night, you and Dr. Samaha stole something from me."

There was no reason to even try playing ignorant, so Rick just leaned back in his chair and grinned across the table at the other man.

"The way I see it, we retrieved the priceless artifact you stole from the Egyptian museum."

If Blake was angry, he didn't show it. Instead, he kept drinking his coffee like they were talking about the weather and not the amulet.

"The Germans were prepared to pay me a king's ransom for Zahrah's Eye, but when I told them I'd lost it, they abandoned the deal. You and Dr. Samaha cost me millions."

"The amulet wasn't yours to sell," he argued.

"We'll have to agree to disagree on that," Phillip conceded. "You also murdered some of my best men. Negan and his thievery helped me get very rich over the years."

He shrugged; unable to hide his pleasure at the news that Michonne's crack shot had punched Negan's ticket into the afterlife.

"I'm pretty sure he deserved it," he said. "Not that I'm not enjoying this whole conversation, what do you want, Blake?"

"Watch it, Dr. Grimes. I could kill you right now and no one would bat an eye, but that would serve no purpose. Instead, I have a proposition for you."

"This should be good," he said; unable to mask his derision.

The governor was unfazed by his attitude and kept right on talking.

"I'll let you leave Casablanca alive. You can go back to your real life and never be bothered by me or my men again," he offered.

"In exchange for?"

"Dr. Samaha. You tell me where she is, and you get to live."

The laugh erupted from his throat before he had a chance to think about it.

"No deal."

"This is the only offer I'll make. You should take it. I'm going to find her, and when I do, I'm not going to let anyone stand in my way," he said; licking his lips at what Rick could only assume were thoughts of Michonne. "She will be mine no matter what."

Rick ground his teeth and clenched his fists at the Governor's fascination with her. He hadn't mentioned the amulet as part of the deal; just her. She was probably the reason his face looked like he'd been in boxing ring and his arm was in a sling, but he spoke almost reverently of her and it pissed him off. He had to keep it together though. If he let the governor know just how far under his skin he'd gotten, he'd never get out of there.

"I already told you, no deal," he growled.

From the way the governor's face changed from aggravated to satisfied, Rick knew he'd given away too much.

"So, she's got you under her spell too. Did she tell you what happened between us last night, Dr. Grimes? She is extremely special in ways you couldn't begin to comprehend, but she shared a few of them with me."

Knowing he was lying didn't stop the rush of fury that spread through him like wildfire. There was no way she would share anything with the lowlife piece of Nazi scum sitting across the table from him. Still, those insinuations cut him right through to the bone; especially when he thought about Michonne in that gorgeous dress hanging on the Governor's arm the night before.

He'd never really been a jealous man, but maybe that was because he'd never really had anything to be jealous about. He was married for a long time and after Lori died, jealousy was never something that never came up in regard to the women he'd spend time with. Michonne was different. He'd hated Siddiq up until the minute he found out he was her cousin. It was irrational, but true. Watching Michonne flirt with the Governor, had nearly driven him insane and knowing it wasn't real, hadn't made a difference.

He took a deep, calming breath and pushed his rage to the background of his mind. Then, he resorted to the one thing he had that never failed him.

Being a smart ass.

"Was that before or after she kicked your ass?" he asked; making sure that his smirk never wavered despite the worst case scenarios regarding Michonne's time with Blake that his mind was doing an excellent job of creating for him.

If he'd so much as touched Michonne in an unwanted way, he'd have to die, pure and simple. But she would've told him if something like that had happened, right?

He'd succeeded in annoying Blake, because he looked angry for the first time during their whole conversation.

"I'll ask you nicely one last time, Dr. Grimes. Give up Dr. Samaha, or..."

Rick interrupted, "Or what? You're going to torture me till I talk? I'm not going to talk. Kill me? I don't think so. I'm the only person who knows where the amulet is. Let me go so you can follow me back to the hideout? Not gonna happen. So what's your game, Blake? Because right now, you're just wasting my time."

The Governor just stared at him; his lips set in a thin line and his eyes hard and cold.

"If I have to search every shack in the medina, I'll find her. When I do, I'll make sure we don't waste any more of your time." As he rose to his feet, Blake motioned to his two goons. "Gentlemen, Dr. Grimes, has places to be. Let's allow him to be on his way."

Rick didn't move or breathe until the Governor and his two henchmen were out of the cafe. There was no doubt in his mind that they were watching the place; it was the only reason they'd left him alive. They were hiding someplace; laying in wait for him to lead them back to Michonne and the amulet. He'd be dammed if he let that happen.

As he went through every possible contingency plan, he realized there was only one way out of this without being followed. It would delay his trip by a few hours, but he was sure he'd at least make it. The buildings in the Medina were close enough together that the rooftops were easy to navigate. All he had to do way get up there, wait until dark, and make his way across the city high above everyone. The only reason it wasn't the plan from the beginning was because of the need for darkness.

With his plan decided on, once he felt it was safe, he scrambled down the hallway leading to the back alley. He pulled his knife from its sheath on his ankle, fully prepared to run into one or both of the governor's men as soon as he stepped outside. His hunch was confirmed when he peeked through the curtain.

The one called Joey was positioned on the other side of the alley; smoking a cigarette and trying to look inconspicuous as he leaned against the opposing wall. Unlike the Governor and even Simon, he didn't seem like a bad guy. He was big, dumb, and probably involved in this whole mess just for the paycheck. In almost any other scenario, Rick probably could've escaped without him noticing, but unfortunately for both of them, he was standing right next to the ladder leading to the roof.

There was no time to feel sorry for him though. There were better ways to earn a living than by working for a narcissistic criminal. With a deep breath, Rick darted across the alley; covering the man's mouth with his hand at the same time as he stabbed him in his large gut. Joey's eyes were wide and terrified as his blood poured out of him and it was warm and slick as it washed over Rick's hand. His stomach lurched, and he had to fight against the urge to vomit. Of course he'd killed before. He'd been a solider in a terrible, seemingly endless war and afterwards, some of his adventures had left him in situations where he had to choose between killing or being killed. Still, it never got any easier. As he lowered a dying Joey to the ground, he whispered a prayer just like he always did. Even after all this time, he wasn't sure if it was for the dying man's soul, or his own.

After he took his last, gurgling breath, Rick dragged his body behind some piles of garbage and covered him up as best he could before climbing up onto the roof and running. He wasn't sure how many rooftops he jumped across before crouching low to hide until the sun went down. He pulled his bloody cloak over his head in an attempt to protect himself from the blazing desert sun. He was hot, sweaty, thirsty, and exhausted; but it was worth it if he could keep them from finding the amulet.

Even as that thought entered his mind, he knew it was a lie. All he cared about was keeping them away from Michonne. The Governor's strange fascination with her, gnawed at him; and the more he thought about it, the angrier he got. It was mostly directed at Phillip Blake and the way he'd licked his lips when talking about her. But deep down, there was a bit of anger reserved for her too. She was keeping something from him and that stung. It was irrational because they hadn't known each other very long. She didn't owe him anything. But after the kiss last night, and the one that morning, he'd thought he'd at least earned her trust.

As he settled in for hours of waiting for the sun to go down, his imagination worked overtime to come up with reasons why she'd keep whatever happened between her and the governor from him. Whatever it was, it had to be something big. It was obvious that something had shifted for the governor. He'd wanted him to "tell him where Michonne is" and to "give up Dr. Samaha". He'd never asked after the amulet. Instead of focusing on finding the object he was trying to sell for millions of dollars, he'd become more concerned with finding Michonne, and he needed to know why.

* * *

_Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!_


	6. Al-'Ishq

_Hi everyone! I know this update is pretty quick for me, but this chapter was half written when I posted the last one. I wanted to take a minute to let everyone reading this story know how much I appreciate you. I love reading your reviews and your comments make me smile, so thank you! I can't wait to hear what you have to say about this one! Let's jump right in, shall we? _

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**Chapter Six - Al-'Ishq**

"Chione, sit down before you wear a trench in the floor."

Michonne ignored Siddiq and continued pacing the small room they were holed up in. The sun was setting and Rick should've joined them hours ago, but he was still out there somewhere. Every minute that passed without him walking through that door, made the knot of dread in her belly tighten.

What if he'd been captured? What if he was somewhere being tortured to give up the amulet? What if...what if he was already dead?

She closed her eyes and shook away that thought. He was late, but she had to believe he was still alive.

Siddiq's voice shook her from her rapidly deteriorating thoughts.

"I've never seen you like this," he said.

"Like what?" She asked, not really paying attention. She was still trying to figure out the path Rick would've taken across the medina. So when her cousin had the audacity to actually say the word he said, she was completely unprepared.

"Al-Sabwah."

She abruptly stopped pacing; her eyes shooting over to him to find a wide grin spreading across his handsome face. If he was trying to distract her, it worked because she completely forgot about how worried she was, and glared at her cousin.

Al-Sabwah was the second stage of falling in love according to Arabic tradition. It was called the stage of desire because it was all about the physical attraction between two people.

She wasn't in the second stage of love with Rick. Sure, she cared about him and she didn't want him to die, but they'd just met. Siddiq was being ridiculous.

"What are you talking about?"

His grin spread even wider.

"I'm talking about the feelings you have for the American. I was there this morning, remember?"

She flushed remembering how thoroughly Rick had kissed her before she left and at the fact that her cousin had been there the whole time.

She covered her face with her hands and groaned.

"I wish you hadn't seen that."

"Why? I'm glad to see you with someone."

She shook her head.

"I'm not…with…him. We've just decided to enjoy each other's company."

Siddiq said nothing, but he raised an eyebrow and for a second it felt like she was staring into the face of her father. The resemblance on that side of the family was striking.

Exasperated by his silence, she asked, "What?"

He clicked his tongue.

"In this country, kisses like the one I saw only come after marriage."

She frowned. Sometimes she forgot she wasn't in Paris anymore. In Morocco, much like Egypt, there were certain expectations that single women wouldn't indulge themselves in romance unless it was with the man she was marrying.

She was a thoroughly modern woman and just because she kissed a man, it didn't mean she was going to marry him. Maybe that was result of coming of age in Paris in the twenties. She'd had a few torrid love affairs while she was at the Sorbonne and after. Michael, an American soldier stationed in Paris, had come closest to making her want to settle down, but even then, it wasn't quite right. They'd all wanted her to give up the work she loved, and she hadn't been willing to do that. The right person would want to add to her life, instead of forcing her to subtract from it.

That was the real reason she wasn't married. She was waiting for the right one. She just wasn't going to stay celibate while she waited, and she refused to let anyone make her feel bad about that choice, including her cousin.

She pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips.

"Have you never kissed a woman like that, Siddiq? Is that why you haven't made a move on Rosita yet?"

His grin tumbled off his face and her teasing made his cheeks turn pink. It was common knowledge that he had a thing for Rosita, but for some reason or another, he hadn't done anything about it. Instead, he'd turn into a stuttering mess whenever he was around her.

"I-I..."

"Don't dish it if you can't take it."

"Fine. I won't say anything else about it and when he gets here, I'll be sure not to get in the way of you enjoying his company."

Her levity faded, as that little comment was enough to remind her that Rick was already supposed to be there. He could be laying hurt somewhere and she wouldn't know. If he was dead, there were plenty of ways to dispose of a body in Morocco that would make sure she'd never know what had happened to him. That thought made her stomach turn.

"We should go look for him," she declared; grabbing her sword and heading for the door. Enough was enough. If she didn't do something, she was going to go crazy.

Siddiq was off the couch in a blur and he grabbed her arm.

"He really will kill me if I let you go out there."

"Let me go!"

He tightened his grip on her, and if it was anyone else, he'd be laid out on the floor. She narrowed her eyes; waiting for him to explain himself.

He sighed and shook his head, knowing he'd never been able to lie to her.

"Dr. Grimes told me to give him a full day to get here. If he doesn't make it, I'm supposed to take you across the straits into Gibraltar. Then, I'm supposed to get you to the U.K. where one of his contacts will give us everything we need to get you to America," he explained.

She was silent as she processed everything. First, when did he have time to tell Siddiq all of that? Second, did he really think she would just leave him? They might not know each other well, but he had to know that she wasn't the type to just run away from anything. Lastly…well…maybe Siddiq was right about the Al-Sabwah. Just the thought of leaving Rick behind, dead or alive, made her heart hurt.

"He wants me to leave him?" She asked in a whisper.

"He wants you to be safe," he countered.

She was just about to jerk her arm away when they were interrupted by a light knock on the door. Her heart leapt into her throat as Siddiq rushed to answer it. She balled her hands into tight little fists and her fingernails anxiously dug into her palms until the minute Rick slipped into the room. The relief that flooded through her at the sight of him, filthy and exhausted, nearly brought her to her knees.

"Rick…"

He didn't acknowledge her before desperately grabbing the pitcher of water from the table. Not bothering with a glass, he brought it up to his dry, cracked lips and gulped down as much as he could until it dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he emptied the pitcher, not stopping until he was coughing and choking.

He dropped it back onto the table and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. As it moved across his face, she gasped when she saw that his hands were not only dirty, but stained red.

She crossed the room and grabbed his hand.

"What happened?"

He pulled his hand away so fast that it startled her. He refused to let his eyes meet hers and she could almost see the cloud of tension that had settled around him.

"Nothing," he mumbled.

"Are sure you weren't followed?"

He snorted, "I know how to lose a tail."

She raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he disappeared down the hallway. This wasn't how she expected their reunion to go. She'd prepared herself to continue their exploration of each other. She'd spent most of her day worrying about Rick's safety and banishing the last shreds of hesitation she had about him from her mind.

Now that he was finally there, he was cold and distant and she wondered if he'd changed his mind about his attraction to her or maybe she'd read him wrong the entire time.

"I need to get cleaned up," he announced, right before the bathroom door clicked shut.

She didn't realize she was staring after him until Siddiq cleared his throat.

"I'm going to go. I need to talk to some people about getting you two out of the country. Rosita will be back in the morning. I'll bring her here when I come tomorrow."

She nodded, and he leaned in to plant a kiss on her cheek.

"Thank you for everything," she said.

"Of course," he replied with a smile. He turned for the door, but paused and looked back at her. "I don't think you're in Al-Sabwah anymore. You've definitely moved on into Al-'Alaqah and there's nothing wrong with that. Especially, if it's with someone who makes you want to go through the other five. Talk to him, Chione. Something big happened in the two miles he traveled today."

Then, he was out the door, leaving her alone to figure out what the big thing that happened in the eight hours and two miles between the cellar and the apartment, was.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the bathroom door opened and she heard Rick's footsteps move into the bedroom. She grabbed the bowl of dates from the table and walked down the hallway, pausing in the doorway when she found him leaning against the dresser with his head hanging between his arms. He was shirtless, and his pants were hanging low on his slim hips leaving her irritatingly distracted by the dimples dotting his lower back.

"I brought you some dates. Siddiq is going to bring some real food by in the morning."

He glanced at her, but didn't turn around.

"I'm not hungry."

She nodded, and set the bowl to the dresser next to him. Apparently, he wasn't going to make this easy at all.

"What took you so long? I was about to go look for you."

"I got held up when The Governor decided to introduce himself," he mumbled.

"Oh God…are you ok?"

"I'm fine." He shrugged, and even though she hated talking to his back, she was enjoying the view as his muscles flexed and tightened with even the most subtle movements.

"Are you sure?" She asked. "You don't seem fine."

He finally turned around and folded his arms over his chest. The view of the front was even more distracting than the back. The skin around his rids on the right side was bruised to a deep shade of purple and blue, but his lean, strong body was still a sight to behold. She couldn't keep her eyes from tracing the defined lines of his abs and chest from the V that disappeared into his pants, up to his pecs and collarbone.

But when her eyes reached his face, it tempered her lust. His eyes were hard and cold and the lines around his eyes seemed even more visible. The half smirk that was usually a constant with him, was gone and his lips were set in a thin line.

"Well, after I was forced to listen to The Governor's bullshit; I killed a guy and spent the last six hours hiding on a roof in the heat without water. It was a shit day."

"He wants you to give up the amulet, right?"

His eyes narrowed and he shook his head.

"Actually, the only thing he asked for was you. You must've left a helluva impression on him." He was being facetious, and it pissed her off. Every word out of his mouth, every movement, dripped with sarcasm. "I guess I should've known you'd weren't telling me something, especially since you somehow managed to get him to put the amulet around your neck."

His not so subtle accusation, hit her right in the chest. The very idea that she would cross the line with the Governor was offensive to her. She straightened, and met his glare with one of her own. He was falling into the bad habits she'd seen from men like him for her entire life. No matter what happened to him that day, he was not going to take it all out on her.

She studied him; noticing that unlike their previous disagreements, he was actually ready to fight. The only thing holding her tongue from giving him the battle he seemed to want, was the fact that she'd seen something else in the way he spat the governor's name, and in the way his eyes managed to hold a hint of hurt behind all of that anger.

Rick Grimes was jealous. He was so jealous he couldn't see straight. She didn't know what lies the sleazy governor had filled his head with, but he'd had plenty of time to let it all simmer while hiding on that rooftop.

Closing her eyes and inhaling deeply to reframe her thoughts, she pushed down the urge to respond to him with a tone to match his.

"You've had a long day, so I'm choosing to give you a break, but you're doing that thing men do when they think they already know the answer to a question they're asking. What do you think you know, Rick?"

He clenched his fists at his side and the veins of his forearms were visibly tight. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough, but he was obviously struggling to hold that initial anger at bay.

"I know he could give a shit about the amulet. I also know you haven't been completely honest with me about last night. I think the only things I don't know, is what really happened and why you didn't tell me."

He was right. She should've told him what happened. Even after the drama of the motorcycle chase, the amulet nearly burning the Governor's hand off should've been the first thing they'd talked about. Instead, she'd gotten lost in the memory of his impulsive kiss and had been desperate to find out if it was inspired by more than impulsiveness. She'd let it distract her from the mission, and that part of their current misunderstanding was her fault.

She swallowed hard as memories of the last time she'd seen Phillip Blake rushed through her mind. He was lying on the floor, writhing in pain as his hand continued to burn even after he'd let go of the amulet.

"I didn't know how to tell you," she began; her words triggering an darkening of everything about his expression. It was almost like someone had flicked off a light deep inside of him.

"Did he…touch you?"

His voice broke on that last word, revealing the true driver of his agitated state. Her answer to that one, simple question had the power to sever the tenuous grip he had on control. If she confirmed his fears, he was going to go back out there and hunt Phillip Blake down; not caring if he got himself killed in the process.

She shook her head.

"No. The extent of my flirting with him was what you saw from the bar. He put the amulet around my neck to toy with me right before he blew my cover."

He ran a hand over his face and released a breath he must've been holding for a very long time. He was quiet as he finally let go of the anger he'd been carrying around with him all day. When he looked up at her again, his eyes were still a little wary but also apologetic.

"So what did happen?" He asked.

She shrugged; and tried to get the words right in her head so she could explain it to him coherently.

"The amulet…it…saved me."

He cocked his head to the side and his gaze was unwavering as he waited for her to continue.

She took a deep breath and launched into the whole story, starting with the minute she met Phillip Blake and ending with the moment they'd found each other in the hallway. He'd been quiet during the whole thing, not even reacting when she got to the part about the amulet coming to life to protect her. He was still quiet but she could almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes as he processed her story.

After a moment, she asked, "What are you thinking?"

He shook his head and started pacing the room; alternating between chewing on his thumbnail and running his hands through his unruly curls.

"We both know the Nazis have been stealing religious artifacts from around the world. They're willing to use whatever magic or mysticism they can to help them achieve their goals, right?"

"Yes. I've read reports saying that their leader is obsessed with the occult."

He paused his movements and inhaled deeply before speaking.

"I think they were planning to use the amulet to try controlling the power of the gods, namely Horus. Destroy the amulet, he will lose the chance of ever finding his soulmate. They want to hold that over his head to use his power."

She blinked at how easy it was for him to say something so ridiculous, so seriously. The gods weren't real; but here they were discussing them like they'd never stopped being worshipped. Her father would've loved it; especially because what she'd seen the night before was tempering her skepticism. Whatever had made the amulet burn the governor's hand, completely defied any logic she could apply to it.

She laughed under her breath and shook her head in disbelief.

"Two days ago, I would've said you're crazy," she said.

He nodded and started pacing again; like the ideas flowing through him were filing him with nervous energy.

"If you go by the myth, it's the only explanation."

That truth didn't make that theory any less insane, so she decided to focus on something that they should be able to make sense of.

"I still don't see why he wants me," she said.

He stopped moving and faced her; the look in his eyes somewhere between frustration and amusement.

"Because you don't want to see it."

She folded her arms over her chest and lifted her chin defiantly.

"What are you talking about?"

He frowned and mirrored her stance.

"The amulet protected you, Michonne. Blake thinks you're the reincarnation. What better way to control Horus than to dangle in front of him the one thing he's wanted for nearly 5000 years?"

While the connections he was making were completely logical, they were based in a theory that made him sound completely certifiable.

She chuckled and said, "You can't believe that."

He stared at her; gnawing on his pouty bottom lip as he considered what she was saying. She remembered one of their first conversations when he'd told her that he'd "seen some shit" over the years. She was about to ask him what he could've possibly seen that would've made the idea that she was Zahrah's reincarnation, believable in his mind when he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"I don't know what I believe," he conceded, "I do know we can't go back to Cairo; or Egypt in general. They'd want to try invoking him in one of his temples. Edfu most likely."

"We can't stay here," she said. "They'll find us sooner or later."

"Yes. That means you'll need to go back to Chicago with me."

He said it so matter of fact; like she was no longer responsible enough to make decisions for her own life.

He was mumbling something about having a friend who could get her into America without issue and wondering aloud if Rosita could fly across the Atlantic, when defensiveness bubbled up inside of her and overflowed out before she had a chance to reign it in.

"I can't just give up my life and run! I've worked too hard for it," she argued.

His eyes narrowed and he ran an exasperated hand through his hair. "You'd rather lose it?" He asked through gritted teeth.

"Rick..."

"No," he interrupted; moving forward until they were standing toe to toe; much like she did during their first argument. This time, his presence and proximity was overwhelming. She couldn't breathe; she could barely think as the heat from his body radiated off of him and warmed her skin. "Unlike everything else we've done since we met, keeping you alive isn't up for debate!"

Her eyes burned with angry tears, but it wasn't because of him. What was supposed to be a simple recovery mission for the amulet had turned into something else completely; something that had the potential to take everything she cared about away from her. She was angry because she knew he was right.

Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest when he lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes and it felt like he was looking straight into her soul. She felt naked; exposed. But as she stared into his cerulean eyes, she realized that he was just as exposed. A myriad of emotions, from admiration to respect and fear to desire, were all right there. He'd laid himself bare to her without saying a word.

A half smile graced his perfect lips and for a moment, the worry and stress was gone. His hands moved to cradle her face; his rough fingertips getting lost in her braids.

"Please don't fight me on this. I'm only trying to protect you. Will you let me?"

She wanted to tell him that she could take care of herself, but she couldn't fix her lips to say the words. For the first time in her life, she wasn't concerned with being in control or proving herself capable of handling anything life could throw at her. All she wanted to do was return just a little piece of what he was offering her.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Ok," she agreed; and the word had barely passed her lips before his hot mouth was covering hers in a scorching kiss that threatened to set her every nerve ending on fire. This was nothing like their other kisses, which were sweet and cautious. This one stole her breath and staked his claim on her very being.

He let up for a second; a smack issuing from their mouths as they slightly disengaged, before going right back in. His tongue slowly snaked out of his mouth, touching against her upper lip which opened to allow him full access to her mouth. Their tongues danced like serpents; his swirling in circles around hers while she tasted the dark and heady flavor of his mouth. It rendered her light-headed as she explored around the underside of his tongue with her own.

He slipped his right hand up her back to the back of her head, pressing her lips into him, as if he could actually make her a part of him if they got close enough. His left slid completely around her waist, pressing her belly against him. She could feel his hardness against her stomach as he started to grind his hips into hers. It felt as if every inch of him was touching every inch of her, and she couldn't help but try to continue pulling him even closer into her.

He released her for a minute, and she let the wonderful sensations he'd given her, course through her veins. Her blood was rushing through every part of her body, and her heart was beating wildly inside her chest as she waited for him to continue his assault on her senses.

She decided to pass the time by running her hands along his firm chest, feeling the light dusting of hair and the raised scars he'd earned from a life of adventure. He was solid; his lean muscles a result of chasing after bad guys for years. He sucked in his breath when her fingertips grazed his bruised ribs, and she pressed her lips against the hollow of his throat to apologize.

His nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons of her shirt, and he pushed it off her shoulders and onto the floor. Then, just as suddenly as he started, he stilled. He pulled back, and his brow was knitted.

"What is it?" She asked.

"You're still wearing it?"

She'd completely forgotten about the amulet around her neck. She'd been wearing it all day.

"I thought it was safer on me...in case we have to run," she explained, and he nodded; but he didn't stop looking at it. His face told the story of what was going through his mind, and she knew he was picturing the amulet doing what she'd told him it had already done.

"I can take it off…" She was pulling the chain over her head when he stilled her hand.

"Leave it. Like you said, it's safer on you."

"But if you touch it..."

He cut her off with a kiss, intentionally pressing his palm against the amulet before sliding it up and around to the back of her neck. Nothing happened, and the corner of his pretty, pink lips curved into a smile.

"It doesn't have to protect you from me," he whispered; using the hand on her neck to pull her in for another searing kiss. He unfastened the baggy, men's pants she was wearing and they slid easily over her hips to pool at her feet, leaving her standing before him in only her cream silk camisole and tap pants.

He stepped back, and his eyes danced across her skin. Desire had turned them a dark cobalt blue, screaming how hungry he was for her and setting her skin on fire. It had been entirely too long since a man had wanted her so badly. If she was being honest, she wasn't sure if any man had ever wanted her as much as Rick appeared to want her. She pulled her lip between her teeth and her stomach clenched at the realization of just how much she wanted him too.

Like he was reading her mind, he brought his lips to her ear and whispered, "I've wanted you from the first second I saw you. You're so goddamn beautiful."

He didn't give her a chance to respond before he was kissing her again; his hands moving down to her bottom and lifting her off the floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist and they fell onto the bed together, where he settled in-between her thighs.

After a moment, he tugged the camisole over her head and a slow smile stretched across his face at the sight of her nakedness. She needed him to touch her again; and when his rough hands cupped her breasts and his thumbs found her already taut nipples, she had to bite her lip to hold in the scream. Then, he lowered his head and began lavishing her breasts with his lips, teeth and tongue; nipping, sucking, swirling and nearly making her come apart in his arms.

He explored every inch of her body like it was a map to a secret treasure; tracing every plane and curve with exacting attention to detail. Every time he found a place that made her shiver when his fingertips or lips touched it, he'd commit to memory and find ways to revisit it.

She was lost in pleasure and didn't recognize he'd removed her panties until his lips found that secret spot between her thighs. The shiver that act sent rushing through her, arched her back and made her cry out his name. No one had ever kissed her there before and it felt so insanely good that it made her feel like she was floating outside of her body. It was too much and it had her too close to the edge. She tried to close her legs but he stopped her with his palms on her thighs.

"Rick, I…" He shook his head and cut her off.

"Shh…just relax," he commanded, but how could she relax while he was doing that? Every swipe of his tongue across her most sensitive parts, had her gripping the sheets and writhing helplessly. She held off as long as she could; trying to prolong the unbelievable pleasure he was sharing with her. When he added a finger and then another to his ministrations, she was forced to give up the battle. Instead, she focused on his stubble setting fire to her delicate skin as he took his time savoring her.

It didn't take long for him to take her over the edge, and she shouted his name as she shattered so completely that she honestly worried about passing out. Her back arched off the bed, her toes curled, her whole body quaked as the world around them was was lost in a dizzying explosion of color.

Rosita's assumption was right. Dr. Grimes definitely knew what he was doing. She was still trying to catch her breath when he kissed his way back up her body, finishing at her mouth. She could taste herself on his lips and she liked it. He'd driven her wanton for him and she craved more.

He stared down at her, his expression turning serious.

"I'm sorry about earlier. He wanted me to believe you were with him like this. I knew he was lying, but the thought of him touching you like this, made me crazy."

"You don't have to apologize," she said; cupping his face in her hands. "And no one has ever touched me quite like this."

She was still a little breathless, and it brought that cocky, half-smirk of his back to his handsome face.

"Good."

He was unhurriedly nibbling along the side of her neck and somehow she knew that was his way of asking her to decide if they were doing any further that night. She answered his unspoken question by reaching down and unfastening his pants.

His eyes jerked up to meet hers and she smiled and nodded; pushing his pants off his slim hips and helping him wiggle out of them before he settled back in. They were skin to skin, his considerable length hard, hot and pulsing as she wrapped her fingers around it and began to stroke.

The sounds he made as she touched him, a mixture of groans, growls, and breathy moans, were so sexy that she wanted to always hear him make those sounds. God, the man was so beautiful with his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth slack; trying to control his heavy breathing. All of it made her body clinch with need and she used her hand to guide him to the place that needed him the most.

His eyes flew open.

"I-I don't have a rubber," he warned, sounding like it was the absolute last thing he wanted to say.

"I'm sure you know your way around that," she answered.

He nodded, and seconds later he was slowly easing into her. Every delicious inch of him stretched and filled her to the point of madness. Even when she was sure he couldn't go any deeper, somehow her body opened to him even more until he was fully seated inside of her.

Then he stilled; giving her a chance to get used to the feel of him. At least, that's what she thought he was doing before she saw his eyes closed tight and his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Give me a minute," he breathed, "You feel too fucking good."

He kissed her lazily until he slowly began moving. His initial thrusts were shallow, but they quickly became deeper and stronger as he increased his pace. She rolled her hips in time to his pace until she felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest. He was mumbling the dirtiest things in her ear; switching between French and English easily as he made love to her.

She moaned, arching up to kiss him. He hunched over, his forehead dropping to the pillow next to her head, his arms straining with the effort it took to stay slow, not wanting to rush. Her hands ran up the sides of his lean torso, up to his shoulders, and gripped his upper arms, running her hands over the tense muscles.

The bedposts beat a steady cadence against the wall and was accented by their ragged breaths and desperate moans as he pushed her deeper and deeper into the soft, lumpy mattress. Her nails ground into his lower back as his hands, his lips, and his hardness wound her body as tight as a spring. The air around them was thick and warm, and soon their bodies were covered in a thin sheen of sweat as they slid against each other.

She didn't know how much more she could take. Her head arched back into the pillow with every deep thrust he made. She moaned his name, the plea for release evident in her voice.

"Rick…oh god…Rick…"

The sound of his name on her lips must have been his undoing. With a groan from deep in his chest, he quickened his strokes until she was arching off the bed, his hands tangled in her hair and hers in his. With a final growl he plunged in to the hilt and she lurched forward, clamping her teeth in the flesh of his shoulder to keep from screaming as her body convulsed all around him.

She was still riding her high when she felt him pull out of her and find his own release shouting her name with a deep groan. His shoulders shook with the force of his orgasm, and she smoothed her hands over his back, kissing and lightly licking the bite marks she made. He collapsed on top of her, his face buried in her hair, and dropped kisses on her neck and shoulders until he had enough strength to roll over, taking her with him.

After a moment, he climbed of the bed and disappeared into the hallway. When he returned, he was carrying a tray with two glasses of water and a warm cloth. He gently cleaned her up, before handing her the glass of water which she accepted gratefully.

After she was done, he took the glass and tucked her into bed before climbing in next to her. Then, there was silence as they lay together; their breathless bodies entwined in a lovers knot. Soon, they were kissing again, gently nipping each other with lips and teeth, until finally sleep pulled at them.

Her eyes were half closed when his voice pierced the silence.

"He can't have you," he whispered.

After the time they'd just spent together, she was surprised that the governor hadn't been completely erased from his mind.

"Hmm?" she yawned, and even though her eyes were barely open, she could see him gently tracing the amulet around her neck with his finger. He looked pensive; like he had something very heavy on his mind. After a long moment, he sighed and tucked her even closer into his side; pressing a long kiss onto her forehead.

"Reincarnation or not, Horus can't have you. I'm not letting you go."

Those words pulled her back from the edge of sleep, and her eyes flew open. He was no longer worried about Phillip Blake, but he was still worried about the reason Blake wanted her.

Unfortunately, there was nothing she could say to that; no reassurance she could give other than saying the gods weren't real. So, instead, she held him tighter and snuggled even deeper into his arms. They'd cross that bridge when they came to it, and hopefully they never would.

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**Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think.**

**Next chapter: Rick and Michonne decide to get the hell out of Morocco, but the situation is more dangerous than ever. ****If Rick was jealous of a man there was no way Michonne had any interest in, how will he react if she really is the reincarnation of Zahrah? How jealous will he be of a god?**

_Notes:_

_1\. In the Arabic language, there are eight stages of love. Al-Sabwah or Desire, is the second stage and this word has the connotation of wanting someone, though still with the restraint of playful flirtation. Al-'Alaqah, or Attachment, is the third stage and it implies that there is an attachment deep in the heart between the two people. Al-'Ishq, or Adoration, is the title of this chapter and the fifth stage. This is the highest stage of pleasurable passion before love becomes darker, more meaningful._

_2\. The Temple of Horus at Edfu is the second largest temple in Egypt. It is said that it was built at the site of the ancient battle between Horus and Set. It is also the most beautiful and well-preserved of all the Egyptian Temples._

_3\. The concept of "soulmates" was yet another thing coined by the Ancient Egyptians that is sometimes attributed to the Ancient Greeks. According to the Egyptian Book of the Dead, humans originated in pairs, bound in one body, with one original soul, but were "split" in two, supposedly for doing something offensive to the gods, after which the newly separated humans forever wandered the earth in search of their long lost soul mate so to reunite their incomplete souls and become one again. The Egyptians wrote this in 2000 BC. The Greeks didn't write about it for another 1400 years._

_4\. I used "rubber" instead of condom because it's 1935. It sounded like something they'd say back then._


	7. Gumming The Works

Thank you all so much for your comments and reviews! I love hearing from all of you. I've never written anything quite like this before and you all are amazing for going along on this ride with me!

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**Chapter Seven - Gumming the Works  
**

Any hopes Rick had that their relationship would somehow become more cooperative because they'd shared a bed, were quickly dashed as they argued about how to escape Casablanca over breakfast the next morning.

Before that, the day had started off so well. Michonne had coaxed him awake with her sweet, languid kisses and after indulging in each other while bathed in the soft light of morning, they'd talked for a long time about anything and everything. Afterwards, they'd fallen back to sleep all wrapped up in each other and he wanted to stay that way forever.

By the time he'd woken up again, sunlight had been streaming through the windows. He'd stretched out, a little disappointed that he was alone, but still feeling more rested than he had felt in a very long time. Somehow, she'd brought him peace even in the middle of the mess they were currently in.

He'd smiled to himself when he heard her voice drift in from the other room, and when that was followed by the glorious smell of food cooking, he'd dragged himself out of bed. His rumbling stomach would not be refused.

He'd gotten dressed and stumbled out into the living area where he'd found Michonne standing over the small cooktop stirring what looked and smelled like eggs. Siddiq and Rosita were sitting at the dining table with plates of fruit and bread, talking about her plane and how fast she could be ready to fly. Neither of them noticed him in the hallway, but Michonne had. A brilliant smile illuminated her entire face when their eyes met and the heat from it warmed his cheeks and stole his breath.

God, she seemed to grow more beautiful each time he laid eyes on her, and he took a minute to marvel over the amazing woman who'd stolen his heart. Even more inexplicable, was the fact that she'd seemed to be falling for him too. She was way too good for him; that much was perfectly clear. She was brilliant, strong, and god, so damn beautiful. She was Nefertiti, Zenobia, Cleopatra, and Makeda combined. She could also be Zahrah, but he didn't want to think about that, not then and hopefully not ever.

He hadn't been sure how they were going to play it, so no matter how much he'd wanted to kiss her good morning, he'd waited for her to take lead.

"Good morning, Rick. Come have some breakfast," she'd said, and he'd done as he was told; joining the others at the table and pouring himself a cup of tea from the kettle. The warm liquid had been minty and sweet on his tongue, but when Michonne took her seat at the table with a plate full of scrambled eggs for all of them, he'd been reminded that she tasted even better.

"What are we talking about?" He'd asked, and that was how it all started. News that the Governor had put a price of 500 dirham on their heads, had sparked a discussion on escaping Morocco that had turned into a full blown fight.

Siddiq and Rosita sat quietly eating their food; their smiles betraying how much they were enjoying the show as Michonne fought against going to America. Apparently, the "ok" she'd given him the night before had only been to appease him.

"All I'm saying, is that there are other places that would be just as safe and less prejudiced!"

"Goddammit, Michonne! I'm only saying we should hide out there for a little while!"

"You don't think one of your neighbors would rat out the Egyptian woman living in your house without a second thought? How could we hide? Us just being together there would make everyone talk!"

Of course, she was right. He knew that on some basic level. But her refusal to go home with him got stuck in his heart like a splinter, and no matter how many reasonable explanations she gave, he couldn't get it out.

"So where do you suggest we go?"

"We should get out of Morocco and into Spain as you said, but after that, I think we should split up..."

"NO," he roared, before she could finish her thought. "We're not doing that."

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest like she was putting on her armor for battle.

"Hear me out," she began; her voice more calm than he'd expected it to be. The same couldn't be said for him.

"I don't have to hear you out! I'm not agreeing to that!" He was ranting and raving like a lunatic. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been that angry. Facing Negan and the Governor hadn't got him that bent out of shape.

She inhaled deeply; closing her eyes and he could almost see her fighting against the urge to go all in on him.

"I'll go somewhere where I can blend in and you'll do the same. We'll lay low for a while and let things cool off. I think it's our best chance to get out of this with our lives. That's the goal, right?"

"Yes, but…"

"You know I'm right about this. There are places I can hide out that you can't and vice versa. It's the right thing to do and it's what we're doing."

She marched past him and disappeared into the bedroom, leaving him with a silent and gaping Siddiq and Rosita. He cursed under his breath before putting his hands on his hips and staring up at the ceiling.

Siddiq cleared his throat.

"Dr. Grimes," he began, but was quickly silenced with a glare.

"Unless you're agreeing with me, I don't want to hear it," he growled.

That pulled a laugh from Rosita who was leaning back in her chair, popping grapes into her mouth.

"Pareces un puto gatito azotado," she teased, "Just go with it. You're not going to change her mind."

He narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

"We'll see about that," he said, before following Michonne's path to the bedroom.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed when he found her, and her eyes met his as soon as he entered the room.

"Michonne…"

"Nothing about my plan to split up is about what we did last night. I hope you know that."

He wanted to be mad at her. He wanted to rage until he forced her to give up the ridiculous idea that separating was the only way they would survive. After all that, he wanted to kiss her until she was senseless and unable to ever even think about leaving him again. He did none of that though. Her sincere, softly spoken words completely neutralized his anger. With a heavy sigh, he closed the door behind him and sat next to her on the bed. Her eyes met his and finished completely disarming him and he took her hand in his.

"How am I supposed to know that? I thought last night…meant something…but this morning, you can't seem to get away from me fast enough."

She shook her head and squeezed his hand.

"That's not what I'm doing. I just want us both to survive this so we have time to figure out what last night meant."

"I want that too but I refuse to accept that splitting up is the way to make that happen. They're not going to stop, Michonne. As long as they think you're the reincarnation, they'll scour the earth for you and the amulet. Not knowing if you're ok will drive me insane."

He sounded desperate even to himself and he didn't care. She had to understand that it would feel like he had a guillotine hanging over his head every day he didn't know for sure that she was alive and safe.

"Don't you think it'll be the same for me? I can't be the reason you don't make it home to your son," she said.

He froze. He'd forgotten that one of the things they'd talked about in the afterglow of their lovemaking had been Carl. At the time, he'd thought she was coming home with him and he'd wanted her to be prepared. Now, he regretted telling her about his life in Chicago. She was using that knowledge as justification for going out there on her own.

That determined look in her chocolate eyes, shook him to his core because he knew what it meant. It was the same one she'd had when they'd embarked on their mission to retrieve the amulet. She was without a doubt the most strong-willed woman he'd ever met, and if he was being honest with himself, that was one of the reasons he was so taken with her.

He ran his hands through his hair; laughing bitterly because he knew there was nothing he could do or say to change her mind.

"I'm not going to be able talk you out of this, am I?" He asked; and she shook her head. "Goddammit…"

"I'll make sure you know I'm ok no matter what."

He scrubbed his face with his hand and said, "You'd better. And then you'd better come back to me."

He placed both of his hands on either side of her face and covered her lips with his. If she was going to leave him, he was going to give her something to remember him by; something they could both think about until they were together again.

He kissed her hard; not letting her breathe or get her bearings before he pried her lips apart with his tongue so he could completely drink her in. Her little moans and gasps spurred him to keep going, so he shifted them so they were laying on the bed.

His heart was racing even harder than it had been the night before. Every time he kissed her, it was like the first time. He moved his hands underneath her shirt and dragged his hands over her hot, satin skin. She squirmed beneath his touch and it got his engine running even harder.

That might've been why he was so surprised when her palms pushed against his chest enough to break the kiss. Her eyes were wide open and her eyebrows knitted as she turned her head to stare at the shuttered window. That look sent his senses on high alert.

"What is it? What's wrong?" He asked; trying to catch his breath.

She sat up and was quiet for a moment that was just long enough to make his anxiety spike even higher.

Finally, she turned back to him and gone was the lust that had been there seconds earlier. It had been replaced by that determined look he knew so well.

"Do you hear that?" She asked, and he listened.

There were only a few constants when spending time in Casablanca; or in any North African city really, and one of those was the busy hum of the Medina. It started almost as soon as the sun came up with the stall owners getting their wares ready for the day, and it didn't end until after everything was put away a little after sundown. In between, the air would be filled with the sounds of haggling, children laughing and playing, and people just going about their lives.

He shook his head but then stopped almost instantly; the realization settling in like a rock in his gut.

"Yeah."

She was already off the bed, holding her sword and stalking into the living room. He followed; picking up his gun from the dresser and checking to make sure it loaded. She glanced over her shoulder and no words needed to be said. It was all written across her face. There would be no night run to the airstrip, no escaping on their separate paths. They were going to have to make their stand right there.

He nodded, agreeing with her unspoken assessment of the situation. There was still so much he needed to say to her but it was going to have to wait. They needed to focus on surviving what was about to happen because it was a little after noon, and the medina around the apartment had gone completely silent.

He didn't know how they found them, but there was no doubt in his mind that the apartment building was currently being surrounded by the governor's men. Maybe it was someone who'd seen Siddiq and Rosita together together that morning and remembered that they'd arrived with people matching the description of the ones the bounty was being offered for. Or maybe none of them were as stealthy as they'd thought and the bounty jarred the memories of people who needed the money. Either way, they'd been found and the shit was about to go down.

Rosita and Siddiq were sitting on the sofa talking when they crept into the living room. Siddiq saw them first, leaping to his feet; and when his eyes widened and his mouth opened, Michonne shook her head and pointed to the ceiling. The footsteps up there were much louder now that it was quiet inside. Once his attention was back on her, she held up two fingers.

Siddiq paled; his eyes wide and pleading with Michonne. While Rick didn't know what she was trying to communicate to her cousin, he had a pretty good idea. From the beginning, the escape plan had only been for Rosita and Siddiq. They could hide quietly next door until the heat died down, but the same couldn't be said for him and Michonne. The Governor's men would search every apartment in the building looking for them if their first try was wrong. They could stay and fight while Rosita and Siddiq could live to fight another day.

Rosita stood and joined in their silent conversation, and he watched as her expression changed from understanding, to disbelief, to defiance, to resignation. Finally, she nodded once; her lips set in a grim line as she grabbed Siddiq's arm and pulled him toward the hidden door that led to the apartment next door.

Michonne stopped them; placing her hand on her cousin's cheek before throwing her arms around his neck. They hugged each other fiercely; the uncertainty of the next time they'd see each other evident in their expressions. She was still holding on to his hand when she hugged Rosita; the two women exchanging a few whispered words before Rosita pulled Siddiq away.

They were gone a few seconds later, leaving him and Michonne standing in the center of the room holding their weapons. She was still staring after them, her shoulders slumping for only a minute before she straightened as she steeled herself for what was ahead of them. He couldn't help but stare at her. She looked so strong and fearless, but still slightly vulnerable and his heart swelled. They had to make it out of this. There was too much left to say between them for this to be the end. As the footsteps gathered out in the hallway, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him.

"Whatever happens, I want you to know that I…" he began; stopping when she shook her head. The cloud of uncertainty lifted from her features and was replaced by an all too brief smile.

"Save it for when we get out of this," she said.

He searched her eyes for a moment and nodded once before kissing her soundly. If she wouldn't let him say it, he was damn sure going to make her feel it while he still had the chance.

The door splintering apart ended their kiss, but no army of men came rushing through. Instead, a small black canister rolled into the room and with it a flood of memories he'd spent years trying to forget. Suddenly, he was that kid on the battlefields of Europe so many years ago, watching his friends die from German gassings.

"Cover your eyes!" He shouted, but it was too late. The gas was already pouring out into the air around them. It stung his eyes and burned his throat just like it had on the battlefields of Europe during the war. One canister wasn't deadly, but it made it hard to breathe, harder to see, and it hurt like a bitch. They were being flushed out; and there was no way to avoid falling right into the trap.

Michonne's hacking cough reinforced that decision, and he held his shirt tight to his face, clenched his eyes shut, and blindly stumbled around the room.

"Michonne! Talk to me!"

"Here," she choked out between coughs.

Finally, his fingertips found warm skin and he wrapped his hand around what turned out to be her forearm.

"We gotta get out of here." He didn't wait for her to respond; he just tugged her along beside him as he searched for the door by feeling the furniture in the room.

The rough corner of the small dining table signaled they were near the doorway. He opened his eyes a sliver, but tears had made his vision blurry and distorted. He saw enough to get them both through the doorway and into the common hallway. He paused; trying to figure out if they stood a better chance going down the stairs or down the fire escape, even though he was certain every possible exit was covered by the Governor's men.

He fought through a variety of emotions; everything from fear and recklessness, to love and protectiveness washed over him all at the same time. Everything in him demanded that he figure out a way to keep her safe and away from the Governor, but his brain couldn't work out how he was supposed to do it. Somehow, this felt more dire than any situation he'd ever been in before, and that had everything to do with the woman at his side.

Michonne was bent over at the waist; her body racked with deep coughs and tears running down her cheeks. She was still holding on to her sword, but she was in no condition to fight or run. Seeing her like that, made the voice in the back of his head that he'd been trying to ignore, grow louder until he had to pay attention to it.

"Michonne," he began, but something in his tone caused her to stand up straight and tighten her grip on her sword.

"We're not giving up," she asserted; her voice strained and hoarse. "There's no way out of this besides going right through them, and that's what we're going to do. We don't die."

He stared at her through his watery eyes; her strength rendering him speechless. Even in that hopeless situation, she had enough courage and resolve to share it with him, and she'd injected it into him right when he needed it the most.

"We don't die," he agreed.

The descended the stairs together hand in hand; pausing in the doorway leading to the street. His aim was excellent when his vision wasn't impaired, so he figured it should still be pretty good with him being half blind. With his gun and Michonne's sword, they had a chance; no matter how many men were waiting for them outside.

Despite the bravado she'd displayed to encourage Rick to keep fighting, the fight went on much longer than she'd expected it to. None of the Governor's men were using the guns strapped to their waists and that gave her and Rick a slight advantage until he ran out of bullets.

Then, the whole thing devolved into a fist fight, as they were surrounded by more men than she could take out with her sword and that he could knock out. Still, they stubbornly fought off the crowd until Rick was dragged away by two large men.

She tried to go after them, but the effects of the tear gas lingered, and her vision was still so blurry that sometimes she'd see three men closing in on her instead of just one. That made her swings erratic and ineffectual. Every time she'd hit nothing but air, she'd curse under her breath.

One of the men twisted Rick's arms behind his back, while the other began landing thundering punches to his torso and face. His grunts and gasps tore at her heart and she focused on getting over there to help him. It distracted her enough that one of the men was able to grab her arm when she lifted her sword, while another one knocked it from her grip.

The dull clang of metal against dirt was almost like the bell at a boxing ring signaling the end of the fight. The man who had hold of her arm moved so that he was holding her in an inescapable bear hug. She couldn't help but think that right then would be an excellent time to find out if she was Zahrah's reincarnation. If the amulet was going to come to life, it should've done it right then. But it didn't. Instead, it hung heavy and cold against her breast, confirming for her that she wasn't the reincarnation at a most inopportune time.

"That's enough!" A booming voice shouted into air.

All movement around them came to halt as Phllip Blake stepped through the crowd. He was followed by two men with guns trained on both her and Rick, and he was accompanied by a man she recognized from that very first fight in Alexandria as one of Negan's men.

Blake approached her, giving her a chance to see the bandages on his arm and the eyepatch he now wore. She smiled to herself. Apparently, she'd gotten a little carried away while beating him with her shoe.

"Dr. Samaha. A pleasure to see you again."

"You sure about that? If someone made me lose an eye, I'd worry they were coming back for the other one."

"Lucky for me, you're slightly indisposed at the moment."

Without dropping his stare for a second, she shrugged and said, "I think we both know that you're the lucky one."

Blake's smile faded into a scowl.

"We'll see about that," he said, "Gentlemen, please relieve Dr. Samaha of the amulet. Make sure to only touch the chain."

One of the henchmen moved to follow orders and as his fingers moved toward the chain, she noticed the Governor flinch. He was holding his breath as the amulet was snatched from her neck and deposited into a small box.

He relaxed visibly once the amulet was put away, and he then turned and walked over to the man holding Rick.

"It didn't have to go this way, Dr. Grimes. You should've accepted my offer."

The man let Rick go and he immediately dropped to his knees in the sand. He was beaten and bloody; his hair plastered to his face from sweat. The rattle in his chest that came with every excruciating breath let her know that at least one of his bruised ribs was now actually broken. His right eye was already swelling shut, but the other was wide open and staring at the Governor in cocky defiance.

He spit out a mouthful of blood and rasped, "Fuck you."

He was rewarded for that outburst with a swift punch to the back of his head that sent him falling forward to his hands, and made her stomach drop even more.

She didn't have time to really think about though, because the man who'd walked in with the Governor was now standing directly in her face. His face was red and his nostrils flared as he glared at her.

"Negan was my friend and you murdered him." Simon said, punctuating his words with a hard slap to her face that turned her head to the side. She closed her eyes as her brain seemed to roll around in her skull and the metallic tang of blood filled her mouth.

"You sonofabitch!" Rick yelled, straining and failing to get up off his knees.

Simon!" The Governor said, turning away from Rick with a revolver in his hand. "I told you not to lay a hand on her until after we know for sure she's not the reincarnation!"

The gunshot rang through the medina before Simon had a chance to respond, and his body fell to the ground, wide eyed and lifeless.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to tap down the urge she had to vomit and to ignore the goosebumps prickling her skin. The Governor had lost his mind. He was shooting his own men, so she was sure he'd have no issue with shooting her or Rick.

Blake reholstered his gun and stepped over Simon's body to stand in front of her again. He cupped her chin in his palm and offered her a sympathetic smile.

"I apologize for that, Dr. Samaha. It's so hard to find good help these days."

"You have what you want. Let us go," she said; but Blake only laughed and shook his head.

"Just when I thought my buyers were out, I mentioned to them what the amulet did to my hand and they now see you and the amulet as a package deal. You should rest, we have a long trip ahead of us."

A hand shot out of nowhere to cover her nose and mouth with a cloth that smelled of gasoline and rotten fruit. She struggled against the arms holding her, but each breath made her more lightheaded. She tried to focus on Rick, but her eyelids grew heavier with every passing moment. She felt like she'd been thrown into the deep end of the pool and she couldn't break the surface.

Rick's gritty, hoarse voice cut through the fog, but it sounded like he was a million miles away.

"Dammit, Blake! I'm gonna kill you!"

The Governor's evil laugh filled the air. "I warned you Dr. Grimes. I told you nothing would stand in my way when I found her. That includes you."

The last things she heard before succumbing to the darkness, were a single gunshot followed by a thud that she was sure would forever echo through her , came the gasp that made her heart seize.

"Michonne..."

Then, there was nothing.

* * *

_Shit! The Governor has Michonne! Where's he taking her? Did Rick get shot? Where are Siddiq and Rosita? And the amulet definitely picked an inconvenient time not to work! Our heroes are in trouble. Let me know what you all think about this cliffhanger!_

_Notes:_

_1\. Rick is comparing Michonne to the most beautiful women of the ancient world. Cleopatra and Nefertiti, you all probably know about. Makeda was the Ethiopian Queen of Sheba from the Bible and Zenobia was a Syrian warrior Queen who was described as, " her face was dark and of a swarthy hue, her eyes were black and powerful beyond the usual wont, her spirit divinely great, and her beauty incredible. So white were her teeth that many thought that she had pearls in place of teeth." Sounds like Michonne to me. _

_2\. Pareces un puto gatito azotado means "you are so pussy whipped" _

_3\. Tear gas was used extensively during WW1 _

_4\. Chloroform isn't immediate like it is in the movies but in this story, it's semi-immediate. _

_5\. Gumming the works is 1930s slang for messing things up._


	8. Ra-Harahkhte

**Let's jump right in after THAT cliffhanger...**

* * *

**Chapter Eight - Ra-Harahkhte**

_He smiled when her delicate, snores pulled him from his sleep. Other than those little snorts, it was quiet except for the rumbling of some late night activity in the medina. The humidity in the room made the thin sheets stick to their naked bodies, despite the breeze slipping in through the window. He glanced down at her gorgeous body bathed in moonlight; her tawny skin practically glowing and his smile grew even wider. He'd never know how the fuck he got so lucky to spend time with this woman, but he certainly wasn't going to waste too much of that time questioning it. _

_He sighed, and traced his fingers up and down her spine. Her cheek was pressed against his chest, and one of her arms and legs were thrown across him, trapping him in a cage he never wanted to escape from. She was all warmth and soft curves; smelling of jasmine and vanilla. He closed his eyes and tried to inhale her until she permeated every part of him. _

"_Why are you awake?" She asked. "Didn't I wear you out twice already?"_

_He laughed; loving the playful side of her and hoping that he'd get see more of it once they were out of the mess they were in. _

_He tightened his hold on her and kissed her forehead._

"_I'm just thinking," he answered._

_She lifted her head and her sleepy eyes met his._

"_About what?"_

"_Everything."_

_She frowned and lightly slapped his chest._

"_Stop it. We'll figure it out."_

"_You sound certain about that," he commented._

"_The only thing I'm certain about is you. That's why I'm with you."_

_His head was suddenly pounding to the point where it blurred his vision. Blinking a few times, he tried to focus on Michonne, but she seemed to be fading away with every passing second._

"_But you're not with me. You're leaving me," he said; desperation creeping into his tone._

_She shook her head and crawled up his body until they were eye to eye. Her gentle fingers brushed his damp hair back off his forehead._

"_I'm here aren't I?" She asked._

_He wanted to agree. He wanted to take her at her word, pull her back into his arms, and kiss her senseless, but something held him back. The commotion outside the window grew louder until it rang in his ears and almost drowned out everything else. _

_He winced and bit his lip as his body spasmed as pain seared through him. He dragged his eyes away from Michonne's beautiful face and noticed her hand pressed against a spot on his lower abdomen; blood seeping through her fingers._

"_This isn't real," he murmured, but she shook her head and pressed her lips against his. When she pulled back, her eyes were filled with tears but the corners of her mouth curled up in wry smile._

"_It is real. Now wake up and fight for us." _

The ghost of her kiss lingered against his lips as he lurched back into consciousness, gasping and fighting for air and space.

"Michonne…"

"I need you to stay still, Dr. Grimes."

He shook his head violently and hissed as another wave of excruciating pain swept through him. His side burned like it was being impaled by a fiery poker, hindering the breaths he was already struggling to take. Blinking, he tried to ignore it long enough to concentrate on the figure hovering over him. His vision came into focus and Siddiq's worried face was all he could see.

"Wh-where is sh-she?"

Siddiq tightened his jaw, but refused to meet his eye.

"We can talk about that later. Right now, we need to focus on the bullet lodged in your side."

Memories of him making it to his feet just as Michonne went limp in the arms of that goon, only to be knocked back to the ground by a sudden, shock to his body; the Governor's laughter as he left him there to "die in the streets like Joey", came flooding back.

Even so, Siddiq's answer was unacceptable. Michonne was out there with that Nazi sympathizing lunatic and nothing mattered more than finding her.

"No…" He tried to sit up, making Siddiq's eyebrows raise in alarm.

"You have to be still!"

"I need to find her," he growled.

"If you don't let me help you, you'll be too dead to help her," warned Siddiq, and he fell back against the floor and squeezed his eyes shut; more because the effort had every muscle in his body shaking, than because of Siddiq's words.

"Please…"

Siddiq released a harsh sigh.

"They took her. Rosita followed them to get a sense of where they're headed."

He'd already known that, but the pain in his body had nothing on the ache those words inflicted on his heart. Through the haze of agony, he forced his brain into action.

"Edfu...Temple of Horus," he said; the rest lost in a groan as Siddiq kept working on his wound.

"We'll talk about it once I'm done. You're lucky the bullet didn't hit any organs, but you're going to bleed to death if I don't get it out and stitch you up."

He closed his eyes as the pain made his vision blur.

"Whiskey?"

"No such luck," Siddiq answered with a grim smile. "I'm going to remove the bullet now. It's going to hurt."

He nodded once, bracing himself, and then screamed until his throat was raw as Siddiq dug the bullet out of his flesh.

* * *

He must've passed out, because when he opened his eyes again, he could tell he was moving. The familiar roar that filled his ears was his first clue that he was on Rosita's de Havilland. He shook away the cobwebs and slowly sat up. His suspicion was confirmed when he looked out and saw nothing but metal and sky all around him.

"You're awake," Siddiq said. "You had us worried for a while there."

His throat was so dry, he wasn't sure if he could speak. Siddiq must've noticed because he handed him a canteen which he accepted gratefully.

After greedily gulping down half the contents, he asked, "How long was I out?"

"Almost a full day. I stitched the wound, but you need a hospital. You lost a lot of blood and I'm not a doctor…"

"I'm fine. Where were you two anyway?" He asked; allowing his pent up frustrations rise to the surface and attach itself to the two people who'd just saved his life.

Siddiq at least had the honor to look ashamed as he started to explain himself.

"Years ago, Chione made Rosita and I agree to an exit strategy. She always cared more about us than herself, and ever since Abu Al'asatir died…" Siddiq's voice trailed off, and he closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead before continuing, "We promised her we would make sure we were safe, no matter what."

He wanted to rage against both of them, but he kept it to himself. If they'd come to help, all of them would probably be laying dead in the Casablanca medina instead of on a plane with their lives.

He swallowed his anger and asked, "So what's the plan? Where are we going?"

Siddiq was quiet for a minute, but he finally nodded and started talking again.

"Do you remember telling us to go to the Temple of Horus?"

"Barely," he answered. Everything was a jumbled mess inside his head.

"We're less than an hour outside Aswan according to Rosita. Then, it's 2 hours to Edfu."

"How far ahead are they?"

"They're on a German military plane that is much faster than ours. They're probably there already," replied Rosita rom the pilot's seat.

"Fuck," he whispered. "You can't land in Aswan. You have to go all the way to Edfu."

"There's no landing strip…" she argued.

He didn't care if she had to land the plane on the roof of the goddamn temple, and he definitely didn't have the patience to listen to her excuses, so he cut her off.

"According to Michonne, you're the best pilot in Africa! Figure it out!" He shouted, making his own head hurt even more than it already did.

"And what are we going to do when we get there? We're outnumbered," she yelled back.

"Whatever we have to. Getting her back is the only acceptable outcome to this," he groaned; his side starting to ache again. He closed his eyes and rested his spinning head against the wall.

Siddiq's voice floated to him over the roaring engines.

"You should rest. You were unconscious yesterday."

He swallowed the nausea threatening to overtake him and shook his head.

"I'm awake today...besides, I can't rest knowing she's out there."

"Why didn't they just take the amulet? Why does he want her so damn bad?" Rosita asked. It reminded him that they'd never talked about the wild reincarnation theory with Siddiq or Rosita. They hadn't had the time.

He sighed; willing to talk about the myth only because it stopped him from obsessing over what could possibly be happening to Michonne.

"You mentioned the Father of Myths. Did he ever talk about the myth of Horus and Zahrah?"

"Of course. It was his favorite. He used to call my eima, his Zahrah."

"Tell it. I need a refresher."

He leaned back and listened as Siddiq launched into the story of the mythical battle between Horus and Set. It had all started when Set murdered his own brother and Horus's father, Osiris, for the throne. They constantly battled after that, with Horus losing an eye but eventually avenging his father and winning the throne.

Some believe that was the end, but it wasn't. Soon after that, Horus fell irrevocably in love with a mortal woman named Zahrah. He begged Isis to use her heka to make Zahrah a goddess so they could marry. If his request wasn't fulfilled, he threatened to become mortal and live out his days with the woman he loved.

Isis couldn't have her only son become mortal and eventually die, so she reluctantly agreed. On the day of the wedding, Set, angry that they would allow a mere mortal to ascend to Ta Neter, murdered Zahrah before the ritual could take place. A broken Horus begged Isis to save her but it was too late. Her body was too damaged and her soul had already been weighed.

Isis created Zahrah's Eye, and bound Zahrah's soul to it. If the amulet and Zahrah's reincarnation are reunited, the ritual could be performed and she would become a goddess. But there was a catch.

First, Horus had to make the reincarnation fall in love with him without using magic. Isis believed that if their souls were meant for each other, they would find each other without interference. Second, Horus and Zahrah had known each other for 77 days when she died. Those same 77 days must pass before the ritual can take place. Third, if the reincarnation died after being reunited with the amulet, but before the ritual, her soul would be broken; never to be reincarnated again.

None of it was easy by design; and while Horus has found her reincarnation multiple times, Set has always found a way to kill her before the ritual could be completed.

"Why doesn't Set just kill the reincarnation after the ritual and just end it?" Rosita asked.

"He likes making Horus suffer. That's why Horus gave up looking for her. He decided that it was better if she lived a thousand happy lifetimes than die horribly one more time. The amulet became just another piece of jewelry and was eventually lost to time."

Rosita's questions continued.

"So if Michonne is the reincarnation, what? They use her as leverage against a god?"

Rick cleared his throat. "I don't think so. I think they believe the ritual will make the amulet and the reincarnation capable of wielding the power they need to further their cause. I don't think they're expecting Horus to actually appear."

"But what if he does?" Siddiq asked; obviously because of his history with the "Father of Myths", he wasn't ruling anything out.

He paused, carefully considering Siddiq's question. Before he could answer, Siddiq started talking again.

"I know Horus is described as being fair and just, but when he's angry, nothing will stand in his way."

Siddiq didn't realize he'd just given a voice to the only fear he had aside from losing Michonne. If Horus was real, she would end up caught between the German army and an angry god. If she wasn't the reincarnation, he'd want vengeance against the mortals who'd stolen Zahrah's Eye; and if she was, there was no way he'd tolerate how the love of his life was being treated.

In the middle of everything, that last point was the one thing Rick was sure of because he felt exactly the same. Just like he was ready to burn the world down for Michonne, there was no way Horus would let anyone guilty of harming Zahrah live. He'd been battling his uncle for centuries for that very reason.

"Either way, he'll kill them all," he said; praying like hell that Michonne didn't get caught in the crossfire.

* * *

Michonne jerked awake, blinking rapidly beneath the blindfold covering half her face as she tried to figure out how much time had passed since she'd last been conscious. She was relatively certain that she was still in the back of the truck she'd been tossed into like a piece of luggage after their plane landed, but days of being blindfolded had left her with no sense of time.

She remembered waking up once and, because they hadn't secured her feet, she'd kicked one of the kidnappers until he spit out three of his teeth. They must've knocked her out after that, because when she'd woken up again, her ankles had been bound too.

Despite the governor's assertion that she was not to be harmed, her wrists and ankles were raw from the ropes tying them together behind her back, and her whole body ached from the awkward positioning. Her jaw was stiff from the gag between her teeth, and the pain in her head was shooting down her neck and into her shoulders.

They hadn't bothered to feed her, but she couldn't say she'd actually eat anything they tried to give her, so maybe she wasn't that hungry yet. Still, it was a struggle to ignore her stomach screaming to be fed because the breakfast she'd shared with Siddiq, Rosita, and Rick was long gone.

Rick. Just thinking of him made her eyes sting and her throat clench. The image of the last time she'd seen him, taunted her. He'd been beaten to within an inch of his life but they hadn't broken him. There was still defiance in his eyes, even as the governor aimed his gun at his head right before pulling the trigger.

She squeezed her eyes shut as that last gunshot rang in her ears for the hundredth time. Michonne had never been in love before, well, not the kind of love that her father and mother shared for their 35 years of marriage; and definitely not the mad, passionate love Horus allegedly had for Zahrah. Even with Rick, she knew she liked him and she cared about him, but love seemed too strong a word for what was happening between them. It was way too fast. They'd only known each other for a few days; not long enough for her to feel something so powerful for him. However, that truth didn't stop her from feeling it.

When that gunshot went off, it had shattered her heart into tiny pieces. That level of devastation could only mean that her feelings for Rick Grimes were stronger than she'd been willing to admit. She loved his cocky attitude, the way his mind worked, and the way his eyes always seemed to only see her. She loved the way he touched her in that tiny bed and the way his mouth felt against her skin. She loved the way he looked, felt, talked, and walked. She loved him.

That epiphany, combined with not knowing if he was alive or dead, had tormented her ever since she woke up from her chloroform induced nap. No matter how much she clung to the idea that he'd somehow survived, she couldn't fathom the governor leaving him alive for any reason.

She wished she'd let him say whatever it was he was trying to tell her before they went down to fight. If he was dead, she'd always wonder if he was about to say that he loved her too. She'd always regret not letting him say it.

But he had to be alive. She refused to believe anything else. The man was too damn stubborn to die, and she just knew he was somewhere thinking of a plan to get her and the amulet back. That was the only scenario that could be true; it was the only one she would accept. She couldn't believe that somewhere in America, a little boy would be waiting for his father to keep his promise to come home, and he never would.

The truck lurching to a sudden stop pulled her from her thoughts of Rick, and after a few moments, she heard footsteps heading toward her.

A voice she didn't recognize boomed, "Time to wake up sweetheart. We're here."

She cringed as a hand wrapped around her upper arm and dragged her out of the truck and to her feet. The sun kissed her skin, and somehow she knew they were in Egypt. It was home, and there was always something about being at home that she recognized deep in her bones. Her father liked to say it was the history welcoming them back, but maybe it was more than that.

The man held her up, and she listened as another set of footsteps approached her. A hand ripped the blindfold from her face, and once her eyes adjusted to the sunlight, her heart nearly stuttered to a stop. There were dozens of men in uniforms all around them; all with the Nazi emblem on their arm, but that wasn't the most terrifying part.

They were in Egypt, and there were three men dressed in the robes of the ancient Egyptian priests with the Temple of Horus looming in the distance. Rick's theory had been correct. The damn fools were actually going to try summoning Horus.

"It's amazing how well kept this place is, considering it was buried in sand less than 50 years ago."You'd be surprised how many people still worship the old gods. Finding priests to perform the ritual was easier than I expected."

She turned her head to find the Governor standing next to her. He had the unmitigated gall to look concerned as his eyes raked across her body.

"I do apologize for your accommodations over the last few days, Dr. Samaha. Your refusal to cooperate forced me to take extreme measures."

She cursed him around her gag, and from the smirk that appeared on his face, she knew he'd understood most of her muffled swears.

He laughed, "Still defiant even in the face of defeat. If you are the reincarnation, Horus is going to have his hands full with you." He grabbed a handful of her braids and pulled her head back until it hurt. Still, she refused to scream. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction, so she continued to just glare at him.

His voice was low and menacing when he continued, "And you better hope that you are the reincarnation because if you're not, I'm going enjoy making you suffer."

Her heart dropped. She had no doubt that he would make good on that promise, and she swallowed hard, realizing that she was fresh out of moves. As long as she was tied up, there was no way out of this for her. The priests were headed toward them and when they arrived, the man who had been holding her, handed her off to them.

The governor gave her one last smirk and said, "The ceremony must take place at sundown and that's only a few hours from now. We have to get you ready." He turned to the priests and ordered them in Arabic to prepare her for the ceremony before walking away toward a small, white tent.

She struggled against them as they carried her into one of the larger tents. Once inside, she saw two older women dressed as priestesses of Horus standing next to a large copper tub filled with steaming hot water. The air was rich with the scent of cardamom, cinnamon, and myrrh; and lotus blossoms covered the surface of the water.

She was unceremoniously stripped of her clothes; the women cutting her out of them to avoid untying her before lowering her into the tub. The women scrubbed her skin so hard that she worried they were going to take off a few layers, and afterwards, they rubbed every inch of her down with sandalwood oil; the oil of Horus.

They didn't need to untie her to get her into the gauzy white dress they had laid out for her. It slipped on over her head and tied at the shoulders, leaving her arms bare aside from the heavy gold bracelets they adorned them with.

One woman held he head still while the other used a kohl pencil to line her eyes and accented them with colorful powders. She got excited when they removed her gag to paint her lips. It could be her last chance to save herself before the ceremony. Her mouth was dry and her jaw ached, but she had to talk to those women.

"Please…let me go," she begged in Arabic, but the women ignored her and continued with their work, so she tried again. "At least untie me. Horus will not be pleased with the marks the ropes will leave on my skin."

That seemed to get their attention, because they stopped and exchanged a heavy look and a few hushed words. Eventually, the older one shook her head, decision made.

"He has searched for you for centuries," she said. "We will be blessed for reuniting you with him."

She shook her head as tears filled her eyes. "These are bad people! They want to use Horus and his power for evil," she yelled, but the women would not be swayed.

This time, the younger one spoke.

"Horus will not be used. He will wield his power in thanks for having Zahrah again."

She kept trying to talk to them while they piled her braids into a bun held on top of her head by thin, gold ropes, but it was no use. They thought they were acting in service of a god, and there was no way to convince them otherwise. By the time the priests came back to carry her to the temple, she was on the verge of full blown panic.

The sky was painted with colors as the sun had already began its descent. They carried her across the desert and into the sandstone building that took over 180 years to build and had stood proud for thousands more. They moved through the Court of Offerings, into the Festival Hall, and finally into the holiest place in the whole temple, the Sanctuary.

The reliefs of Horus carved into the walls were illuminated by torches, and the Governor was already there, holding the wooden box they'd put the amulet into back in Casablanca. He was surrounded by his men and the Nazi soldiers with their rifles in hand.

The priests placed her on the black, granite shrine in the center of the room, right in front of the altar filled with hot coals and burning Kyphi; scenting the room with the flavors of cinnamon and mint.

When the governor approached her, still wearing that slimy smile of his, it drained the wonder right out of her. She was no longer gagged, and she knew that talking to him would do no good so she gathered what was left of the fluid in her body and spit in his face. Even if it did nothing except make that smile fall, it was worth it.

His eyes flashed angrily, but he simply used his handkerchief to wipe his cheek before opening the box and slipping the amulet around her neck, careful not to touch the eye itself. Then, he grabbed her chin and squeezed it roughly.

"You are trying my patience, but one way or another, this ends tonight," he said.

The German commander joined his side; his face a mask of stone.

"Let's get this started," he commanded; his eyes burning into hers.

Both men stepped back and the priests surrounded the shrine, followed by the priestesses; their chants and incantations filling the room like the Kyphi they were burning. They spoke in ancient Egyptian and it took a minute for her mind to unscramble the words that, up until that moment, she'd never heard spoken. By the second repetition of the hymn, she had it down.

_To Horus who was born of Isis, we offer our praise. O son of Osiris, true heir to his throne, O saviour of your father, contender with your uncle, O Horus who joined the two great lands, who wears the double crown, O king of gods, O god of kings, we call to you, O Horus. Upholder of the right and the good, defender of order, guardian of Ma'at whose work is unending, we honor your constancy, we honor your might. We pray to you, O Horus, grant us your grace, grant us the gift of integrity, grant us the strength to do what must be done, the will to pursue the true and the just. Horus who was born of Isis, child born of magic, born of death into life, we call to you with reverence; we call to you with faith._

By the third repetition without anything happening, the governor and the soldiers were beginning to grow impatient.

"This is a waste of time, Herr Blake," said the commander.

The Governor nodded, smirking as his eyes bore into her.

"It was worth a try. I'll keep the girl and you can have the amulet for the price we negotiated."

The German appraised her dismissively, before answering with a single nod. He then turned to his soldiers and signaled them to fall out. As the last bit of sunlight fled the room, a rush of air burst into the sanctuary and extinguished the torches, thrusting them into darkness. The soldiers froze in place; mumbling to each other fearfully until their commander hushed them all.

The governor was staring at her with his mouth hanging open and when she looked down, she realized why. The Eye of Horus was glowing; growing brighter by the second until it washed the entire room in its pale blue hue.

The priests and priestesses continued chanting, but they moved so that they were facing west. According to the myths, Horus was responsible for escorting the sun across the sky. Now that it had set, it would make complete sense for him to arrive from the west.

As if on cue, the sanctuary was flooded with the light of a thousand suns; so bright that it forced her eyes shut and warmed her skin. The room was filled with the smell of burning flesh and the pitiful screams of those too close to the source of the light. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter; trying to force out the truth of everything swirling around her. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be real.

As her skin cooled and the voices became little more than whispers, she dared to open her eyes and found that everything had stilled. The torches had relit themselves and had cast the room and its occupants in a yellow haze. The priests and priestesses had fallen to their knees with their faces pressed into the floor, the soldiers who were uninjured were cowering while the injured ones moaned and writhed on the ground.

The sound of her own heart pounding filled her ears as she slowly turned her head in the direction they were facing. She wasn't ready to see it. Seeing it would forever shift everything she'd believed for her whole life. It would make the stories her father had loved so much, real and true.

After building up her courage, she looked down the aisle and the sight before her, stole her breath and stilled her racing heart. There was a figure standing in the center of the aisle they'd carried her down, and he was slowly moving toward them; his bronzed skin shining like sunlight was coming out of his every pore. He was built like one of the granite statures that had guarded the entrance to the temple in antiquity; each and every one of his muscles defined like they'd been chiseled by a master sculptor. His ivory kilt was trimmed in navy, red, green and gold to match the golden sandals on his feet. His wesekh collar was made of gold and filled with beads of lapis and turquoise, and it sat around his thick neck and rested on his bare chest.

In his left hand he held a Was-sceptre signifying his position as a ruler. Most significantly, he wore a falcon headpiece topped with the red and white dual crown of upper and lower Egypt.

Her mind, usually full of questions and theories, was completely blank as it tried to process what she was seeing. She was in the presence of a god, and not just any god.

For better or for worse, Horus had answered their call, and based on the tightness of his right fist clutching his sharpened khopesh, he wasn't pleased.

* * *

_Wow so…the gods are real, Horus is there, and he's pissed. Rick and the crew are on their way, but will they get there before the shit really starts to go down? As always, let me know what you think of this one. You know how in movies like this, there's always that scene where the main characters talk about history as a backstory to the current situation? That's kinda what I was going for in the Rick portion of this chapter with the full story of Horus and Zahrah._

_This story was always meant to be a short, movie length ride. There are probably only a handful of chapters left. Thank you all for your support. You blow me away!_

_Notes (I'm such a nerd about this stuff lol):_

_Ra-Harahkhte - Horus was a sky god who was eventually combined with Ra, a sun god. Ra-Harahkhte is the name Horus was known as in this role; a god of the sun who sailed across the sky during the day and was depicted as a falcon-headed man wearing the double crown of Upper and Lower Egypt with the sun disk on it. His symbols are the Eye of Horus and the falcon._

_Eima is Arabic for aunt. _

_de Havilland is a airplane brand._

_Sandalwood - this essential oil is known to be able to open the all-seeing "third eye" which is represented by the Eye of Horus. It is for purification and divine communication. Offerings of sandalwood were given to Horus in his temples._

_Kyphi is an ancient temple incense with sixteen ingredients; mint and cinnamon being two of them. It was used to clean and perfume the air for rituals._

_The chant is an actual Ancient Egyptian Hymn I found in a history book. I thought it fit._

_Was-sceptres were used as symbols of power or dominion, and were associated with ancient Egyptian deities as well as with the pharaoh. Was-sceptres also represent the Set animal. It was a symbol of control over the force of chaos that Set represented._

_Wesekh collar is the most iconic form of Egyptian jewelery. It is the broad layered collar was favored by both the gods and the pharaohs._

_Khopesh - Curved ancient Egyptian sword._


	9. The Modern Contendings of Horus and Set

**Let's jump right in, shall we?**

**Chapter Nine - The Modern Contendings of Horus and Set**

_"…Horus thereupon did battle with Set, _

_the victory falling now to one, now to the other ..._

_Horus and Set, it is said, still do battle with one another, yet victory has fallen to neither…"_

Rick was bleeding again, but he kept that to himself as they hurried toward the temple. Rosita had put the plane down in the sand a few miles back, and they'd been hoofing it ever since. He was pretty sure he'd torn a stitch or two during the landing…well…the crashing into a sand dune a few miles away from the temple. He couldn't really complain about that though, since he was the one who'd told her not to go to the landing strip in Aswan.

Sweat poured out of his body and he was well aware that it wasn't just because of the setting Egyptian sun. His head was swimming, his heart was pounding in his chest, and his vision was blurring at the edges. Dehydration and blood loss were taking its toll on him. Worrying about Michonne was the only thing giving him enough energy to keep going. He wouldn't stop moving until she was back in his arms where she belonged.

When he saw the temple on the horizon, he thought it was a mirage until Siddiq said something about it. Knowing it was real, gave him a much needed burst of adrenaline to keep going. But then he saw the light shooting out from between the ancient columns and he stopped. It was brighter than anything he'd ever seen. The only thing he could compare it to in his mind was the sun itself. It illuminated the horizon and set the sky on fire.

"What the hell was that?" Rosita asked.

He had no idea what the correct answer to that question was. All he did know, was that it was coming from the place he was relatively certain Michonne was in and it terrified him.

"C'mon. We need to keep moving," he ordered.

Fighting past the ever increasing pain in his side, and without waiting to make sure they were following, he picked up the pace and kept trudging in the direction of the temple.

That light had increased his worry exponentially. He'd always been a believer in things beyond what could be seen, and the way that light had illuminated the temple complex and the surrounding desert could only be described as otherworldly. What if they had actually summoned Horus? What if they miscalculated and alerted Set to the possible existence of another reincarnation?

Those questions rattled around in his mind as his tired legs carried him ever closer to his destination, and the closer he got, the less certain he was about what he would do when he got there. Conservatively speaking, the Governor and his goons, a squad of Nazi soldiers were standing between him and Michonne. Factor in the possibility of one or more gods being in there, and it became an even more insurmountable situation. Deep down, he knew he was no match for the beings the ancient Egyptians had made their gods, but he wasn't going to give her up without a fight.

* * *

All of the rifles in the temple were aimed at the god standing in the center of the aisle, and Michonne couldn't help but think how pointless that was. If he was truly Horus, those guns and their bullets meant absolutely nothing to him. He could be rid of them with a blink of his eye.

"Which one of you is the leader here?" He asked in perfect Arabic. His voice was deep and firm and his accent wrapped around his clipped words. It surprised her that he would choose the modern language over the ancient. Then again, if he'd been around for thousands of years, he'd had plenty of time to learn it.

The Governor stepped forward, and his fear had been replaced by smugness over being right about the whole thing. He wanted to receive the credit and the praise for delivering Zahrah to Horus. More importantly, he wanted the reward of Horus's power at his disposal.

"Horus, I am Phillip Blake and I have summoned you becau..."

Horus leveled his gaze at the governor, whose eyes widened as his words came to an abrupt end. He started coughing and choking, and his face turned cherry red as he began to levitate off the ground and float over to where Horus was standing.

The governor's men started to come to his aid, but Horus held up his hand and they all froze in place like their feet had been secured to the ground. At the same time, the rifles the soldiers were holding, turned to sand and ran between their fingers. Every face was contorted in fear; and their mouths were open in silent screams.

She returned her attention to Horus, whose falcon headpiece had faded away to reveal a man who looked more human than she'd expected him to. He also looked extremely annoyed by this entire situation.

Before she had a chance to really inspect him, he moved so he was standing nose to nose with the governor, and she could feel the heat of his glare from yards away.

"No mortal has the power to summon me. I am here because I was curious about the fools who though they could control the power of the gods," he scoffed.

"W-we found the r-reincarnation and brought her here to reunite you with her," the Governor tried to explain; his voice shaking with every word, but Horus did not release him or relax his glare.

"And you want me to reward you with my power so your armies can use it to rule the world!" He yelled, and the governor gasped for air as his face turned a deeper shade of purple. "I watch as you mortals exterminate each other for sport, and you think I would give you the means to do it more efficiently?" As his voice got louder, the men in the room began to twitch erratically as their bodies lifted off the ground to match the governor's.

"Being the weak beings you are, you cannot help but seek power. Perhaps after witnessing my power, you all will finally learn to be careful what you wish for."

She shuddered as the sound of thousands of bones snapping all at the same time echoed through the sanctuary, then she squeezed her eyes shut when he sent them all crashing to the floor with enough force to shake the temple.

She pried her eyes open, and the bodies of the soldiers were splattered about like insects after being smashed under a boot. The priests and priestesses were huddled together in a corner; their eyes wide and bodies trembling. He turned to them and they wilted even more under his angry attention.

"You bring shame to my name. Get out," he growled in Egyptian. "Summon me again, and I will not be so forgiving."

The priests and priestesses scurried out like rats, leaving her alone with Horus and the governor, who lay forgotten on the ground trying to catch his breath.

After his followers exited the room, Horus snatched his gaze over to her for the first time, making her breath catch in her throat.

He ran a hand over his dark, closely shaved hair, but his icy stare remained locked on her. Her father used to say, _"His left eye is the sun and the right is the moon"_. His left eye was deep amber, flecked with gold around the pupil in a way that resembled the sun's rays. His right eye was pale blue with a dark, inky rim. That one was the one he'd lost in one of the battles with Set, and had been restored once he prevailed and was made king. Both eyes were beautiful and almost hypnotizing as he inspected her from head to toe.

He stopped a few inches away from her, and she was able to really look at him. Fury still radiated off of him, but he was still a beautiful man, with unblemished skin with coloring similar to a new penny; and a hawkish nose, perfectly squared jaw, and full lips. It was a face that would've made him a modern day movie star on the cover of magazines. There was a weariness about him though. All of that beauty was dimmed by the pain he'd undoubtably been carrying with him for thousands of years.

He glanced down, and noticing the ropes around her wrists and ankles, he frowned and they fell away.

Sighing, she closed her eyes and rubbed her wrists gratefully.

"Thank you," she said; her words no higher than a whisper.

He laughed, low and humorless, before narrowing his eyes and tilting his head.

"Do not thank me yet. If you are part of this treachery, I will not spare you just because you look like her," he threatened.

She stiffened as those unsettling eyes seemed to bore right into her soul. He'd said she looked like "her". Did he mean Zahrah? Had he lost her so many times that he was hesitant to trust anything related to her.

There was no doubt in her mind that he wouldn't hesitate in making good on his threat. Still, she refused to lower her gaze. She held her chin up and boldly met his stare.

"They stole the amulet, tried to kill me, and then kidnapped me. I'm not part of anything those jackasses have planned."

She surprised herself with how confident her voice sounded, while on the inside she was on the verge of falling apart.

The corner of his mouth curved upward and his eyes lingered on her face a second too long before his gaze drifted down to the still glowing amulet around her neck.

"They believe that you are..." he paused, almost like he couldn't bring himself to say Zahrah's name. "...her reincarnation. Why?" His words were quiet and thoughtful, and his eyes never left the amulet. He glared at it like he hated everything about it; like he could've gone thousands of years more without laying eyes on it again. It was the opposite of everything she'd imagined.

"It…protected me when he," she began, gesturing toward the governor, "attacked me trying to steal it back."

He simply nodded and once again it wasn't the response she'd expected from him. He looked over his shoulder at the governor, frowning as he gripped his sword tighter. In a flash, he had the governor by his hair, with the sharp edge pressed into his throat.

"Please! No! I'm on your side! I brought her to you," the governor begged.

Horus pushed the blade deeper into the governor until a thin line of red appeared against his pale skin.

"You hurt her and for that you deserve to suffer," he sneered.

The governor was openly sobbing; pleading for his life as he soiled his pants. He was getting exactly what he deserved, but it was hard for her to watch and his sniveling seemed to only infuriate the god more.

The governor's eyes bugged out when Horus slit his throat deep enough to sever the muscles and tendons in his neck. Blood poured out of him, and Horus let him fall to ground where he'd slowly drown in it. She closed her eyes and turned away, sure that she would have nightmares about that moment for the rest of her life; for however long that may be.

She felt fingers lifting her chin and she opened her eyes to find Horus staring at her with an apologetic look on his handsome face.

"I am sorry you had to see that, but it needed to be done," he said.

"Why is this happening to me?" She asked.

He released a shaky sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.

"The amulet was forged with Zahrah's blood. It recognizes the blood that still runs through your veins even after all this time," he explained.

"She was my ancestor?"

He nodded again; his eyes clouded by an overwhelming sadness that made her own heart clench. He rubbed one of her braids between his thumb and forefinger and the corner of his lips curled up into a wistful smile.

"I loved watching her braid her hair," he mused; like the memory was fresh in his mind's eye instead of the ghost of something that happened centuries ago. But then, his smile faded and he let go of her hair, his expression once again unreadable. "You are of her sister's bloodline, but you could be Zahrah's twin."

"Am I the reincarnation?" She asked; not exactly sure where she was summoning the courage to talk to a god just like he was a normal man. Still, the nervous pit in her stomach grew more volatile as she waited for him to answer.

He appraised her silently, and it felt like she was awaiting the verdict on what the rest of her life would be like. When he finally spoke, his answer didn't give her much comfort.

"She never comes back the same. According to my mother, that would make it too easy." His voice was low, but every word dripped with bitterness. "For that reason, I do not believe you are, but we should find out for certain, should we not?"

"What do I have to do?"

"Nothing. Just close your eyes and sit still."

He placed one hand over the amulet while the other guided her hand to rest over his pounding heart. His long, dark lashes fluttered against his cheek as he closed his eyes and began whispering words she couldn't understand.

She did as she was told and the moment her eyes shut, she was bombarded with sensations she felt in every inch of her body. Most noticeably, it felt like a knife was slicing through her brain and revealing everything about her.

It felt like hours, but it could've only been a minute or two when he gasped and snatched his hand away. She opened her eyes to find him gaping at her with wide, glassy eyes. He struggled to catch his breath, but those eyes never left her face. He said something in Egyptian before dragging his hand over his face in disbelief.

From that reaction, she could only draw one conclusion. She was what he'd been looking for. She was Zahrah. He was looking at her, but he was seeing the reincarnation of the woman he'd lost so long ago, but still loved just as much as he had back then.

It was too much for her. She crumpled to her knees and covered her face with her hands. Her body shook with long, racking sobs that seemed to just pour out of her, and she wasn't sure why her reaction was so desperate. Being the reincarnation was in no way a death sentence but it felt like one. It felt like the end of the life she loved; the life she'd worked so hard to build for herself. It also felt like the end of something she was just beginning to explore.

Thoughts of Rick became more clear in her jumbled mind; images of his electric eyes, silky curls, stubbled cheeks, American drawl, and bowlegged walk made the tears pour out of her even harder. She didn't know if he was still alive, but if he was, this development would irrevocably change things. He'd said he wasn't willing to let her go, but what could he do against the god she'd just seen kill dozens of people without lifting a finger?

As if he was still reading her mind, he used his warm hands to cup her face and bring her attention back to him. He had tears of his own in his eyes, probably for much different reasons, but he smiled through them and brushed hers away with his thumbs.

He shook his head and said, "Your tears are unnecessary, Dr. Samaha. You are my beacon of hope."

"What does that mean?" She asked, too tired and too overwhelmed to figure to riddles.

His smiled brighter, and she could see why any woman would fall in love with him.

Just as his lips parted to speak, he stiffened and the color drained from his face. He stared at her, and she heard his voice in her head.

_He's here._

The alarm in his eyes, the tightness of every muscle in his body, told her that there was only one person he could be referring to and her own body tightened in response to that realization.

Set.

She opened her mouth to ask more questions, but he placed his hands on her shoulders and silenced her with a firm stare.

_If he sees you, he will dedicate himself to ensuring your death. There is only one way out of this without sacrificing your life._

She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes as the intent behind his words was received loud and clear.

* * *

Rick led his small rescue team through the temple, following the directions he'd gotten from the terrified priests running for their lives.

"Al-mawt! Al-mawt!" _Death! Death!_ They'd shouted, as they'd scrambled past them; warning them not to go any further.

"Is the…reincarnation in there?" He'd asked in Arabic after grabbing one by the collar and refusing to let go until he got an answer. "Answer me!"

"She is with her king in the sanctuary," the priest finally answered before he successfully pulled himself away from him. It wasn't the definitive answer he was looking for, but it would have to be enough.

He'd continued trudging through the temple, his heart racing faster with every step. Now, they were right outside the sanctuary and the voices that had seemed like disconnected whispers, came in crystal clear.

"Neb-i! Ankh! Udja! Seneb!" _My Lord! Life! Strength! Health!_

Even in the ancient language, Rick heard the sarcasm dripping from each syllable. He peeked around the corner and couldn't believe what he was seeing. There were two men standing near the altar. One was dressed in a contemporary black suit that made his pale skin look nearly translucent, while the other looked like one of the ancient paintings on the walls come to life. From the markings on the gold bands on his arms, that one had to be Horus. Even though there was nothing distinguishing about him, Rick knew in his bones that the other man was Set.

The one in modern attire continued, "It's been a long time since we've seen each other, nephew."

"Set. Did you help these mortals plan this treachery?"

Rick froze and Siddiq walked into his back. Horus and Set were in the sanctuary built on the site of one of their ancient battles. The fear on the faces of the men and women running out of the temple made perfect sense. No one wanted to be in the middle of those two, but Michonne was in there.

"Why did you stop?" Siddiq asked.

Rick shook his head and started moving again as the voices continued.

"Your accusations are unfounded. I felt your power coming from this place and I wanted to see what could've made you use them again after all these years."

Set continued, "What did these mortals do to deserve this massacre? They only things you've ever been this passionate about is avenging your father and Zahrah."

The blood in Rick's veins turned to ice, but he stepped forward to get a better look inside the sanctuary. His stomach turned at the sight of the bodies littering the blood splattered floor. His heart was in his throat as his eyes frantically scanned the room looking for any sign of Michonne.

"Do not speak her name!" Horus boomed.

"Actually, if you'd shown this level of passion during our battles, we might not be standing here right now," Set goaded.

Every second that passed without him finding Michonne was agony. He was about to move to a different angle when he saw something hanging off the edge of the altar, and his heart shattered when he recognized what it was.

He traced her braids from the ends dragging against the ground up to the altar where he caught a glimpse of her hand hanging off the edge with blood dripping from her fingers. His eyes scrambled to her face and her normally expressive, chocolate eyes were open and unseeing; dimmed as the light inside of her had been extinguished.

His legs gave out, sending him crashing to the floor in a boneless heap. Rosita and Siddiq's insistent whispers were drowned out by the blood rushing through his ears. He was too late, his darkest fear had been realized, and he was just numb.

Set's voice cut through the noise in his head.

"This one looks so much like her, yet you killed her too."

Horus shrugged, like the dead woman on the altar was nothing at all.

"She was working with them of her own accord. Therefore, she suffered the same consequences."

That was the last straw. He refused to sit there and listen as Michonne's life was reduced to insignificance. She was strong, beautiful, and brilliant; good-hearted and kind. She was a daughter, a cousin, a friend…a lover.

He struggled to his feet and Siddiq tried to hold him back.

"Rick, no. She wouldn't want this. She would want you to live."

He snatched his arm away and limped down the aisle to where the gods stood; tears blurring his vision.

Set had to see him coming from over Horus's shoulder, and his smirk confirmed that.

"Looks like you missed one," Set said.

Horus spun around and his eyes widened fractionally for just a moment. His jaw tightened, and he glowered at him like he was just another unimportant annoyance.

"You sonofabitch," Rick rasped.

Horus watched him approach through narrowed eyes, but made no moves to stop him.

He continued, "She was a victim in all of this, but you murdered her!"

Set's smirk turned wicked, as he folded his arms over his chest and waited to see what would happen next.

"Are you about to take a walk in my shoes, dear nephew? Forced to defend yourself for doing what needed to be done?"

Rick didn't give Horus a chance to respond to Set's taunts. He used every ounce of strength in his body and landed one hard punch to his jaw. It was most likely the last thing he was ever going to do so he figured he may as well make it count. Still, it felt like he'd hit one of the granite statues outside, and broken every single bone in his hand.

Rick ignored his throbbing knuckles, and Horus reacted to the hit like he'd been bitten by a mosquito, and the look on his face was more from shock than anything else.

Set's gleeful laughter rang through the temple as he nearly doubled over in amusement.

When he wasn't immediately struck down, Rick decided to go in for another punch, but the second time, Horus caught him by his throat and raised a curious eyebrow.

"You dare lay your hands on me, mortal?" He asked.

"I'd kill you if I could," he spat back.

Horus just stared at him silently for a long moment before his lips curved into a half smile as he released him. Rick tumbled to the floor and when he tried to get to his feet, he realized he couldn't move. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He was trapped and completely at the mercy of the gods standing before him.

He was sure that moment was his last and his mind flooded with thoughts of his son, regret over not being able to keep his promise and be the kind of father Carl deserved, and prayers that he would have a happy life without him.

He thought about Rosita and Siddiq, watching from the shadows and prayed they didn't lose their minds and try to help had to stay alive and safe. It was what Michonne wanted for them and he wanted one of her last wishes to be granted.

Michonne. He thought about her last of all. He couldn't regret falling in love with the woman who'd led him to that moment. If he had it to do all over again, the only thing he would change about the whole thing was not telling her he loved her when he had the chance. She deserved so much more than a grisly death in an ancient temple. She deserved the whole world and he did regret not being able to save her.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself for whatever death Horus saw fit to give him, and hot tears streamed down his cheeks as he waited for it all to end.

"You are not worth my time," Horus said; turning his attention back to Set, who was no longer laughing but was still grinning obnoxiously.

"Will you let this mortal live after striking you?"

Horus stalked toward Set, and Rick watched as a curved, golden sword appeared in the hand he kept behind his back.

"Killing mortals is more your thing, is it not? I've had my fill for one day."

Set's fisted a hand in his dark, auburn hair and a dim red light began to glow around him as his malevolence started to bleed through.

"How much you care for them is what brought us here in the first place," he fired. "First, you want to make a damn peasant girl one of us and now you want to allow one to keep his life after disrespecting you!"

"I murdered the woman he loved. I know his pain and rage well and I don't blame him for it."

"Fool!" Set roared. "I won't let you make us appear weak!"

Rick's eyes widened as Set stormed past Horus; approaching him with fury setting his dark eyes aflame. A sword, identical to the one Horus held except for its onyx color, appeared in his hand which he raised in the air, readying his death strike.

Then, Set's eyes widened, his jaw fell open, and the tip of Horus's blade pierced through him from the back.

"I think killing you would be a much better use of my time," Horus growled.

Set dropped to the ground, and began to laugh as blood poured out of the wound and trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"Well played, nephew. But you know this is only temporary."

Horus shoved the sword in deeper and twisted it for good measure.

"It'll be long enough," he said.

Set curled up on his side, and Rick saw the exact moment the life faded out of his eyes.

Horus pulled the bloody sword out of Set, and rushed over toward him. He couldn't help but think now that Set was taken care of, his time was truly up.

Horus released him from whatever spell had been holding him back and said, "Listen to me well, Rick Grimes. Michonne is alive and she will wake up soon. You need to get her out of here as as far away as possible." He placed his palm over the bullet wound in his side, and Rick hissed as heat spread through his body.

"What are you doing?"

"Healing you. You would be dead in an hour otherwise."

Energy pulsed through him, and Rick suddenly felt well enough to face the world. He got to his feet and leveled Horus with a hard stare.

"Thank you for helping me, but you gotta know that I'll keep fighting for her. You can come for your Zahrah, but I'll fight for my Michonne."

"You have the courage of a fool, but you should know that if she was my Zahrah, you would not be leaving here with her." His pointed reply was both a threat and a dismissal. He continued, "She knows, and she will explain when she wakes." He looked over his shoulder; a frown appearing on his face when he noticed Seth's body twitching. "He's already healing. I cannot kill him, only slow him down. I'm taking him to the council but he'll be free again soon."

He wanted to know why Set couldn't die, what was the council, why would Set be free again soon, and why the amulet sparked for Michonne if she wasn't Zahrah, but he knew when to ask questions and when to just follow directions.

He stood, stumbling toward the altar to retrieve Michonne. He lifted her into his arms, but Horus stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"She may not be my Zahrah, but if you don't take care of her, you will have to deal with me."

From his tone, Rick knew that wasn't a threat; it was a promise. He replied with a single nod, and Horus left him to grab Set up by his collar.

"Now go!"

The two of them disappeared in another flash of light, and the bodies of the governor and the Nazi soldiers vanished seconds later. It was like nothing at all had happened in there; like it had all been some horrible nightmare.

Rick cradled Michonne close to his chest and raced toward the exit. Siddiq and Rosita were right where he left them; both looking shaken and confused. They looked like they'd just woken up from a long nap and they didn't quite know where they were, but he didn't have time to be bombarded with questions. He shook his head and walked right past them.

"We have to go. We'll take one of the German trucks," he said.

"What happened? Is she…" Rosita began, but he cut her off with glare.

"She'll be fine and I'll explain everything later. Right now, we gotta get the fuck out of here," he urged. There would be time for questions and explanations later.

* * *

_Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it! Let me know. I love hearing from you! Only one chapter and an epilogue left…_

**Notes:**

1\. The title comes from "The Contendings of Horus and Set" which is the story of the battles between Horus and Set over the Egyptian throne as written in the first sixteen pages of the Chester Beatty Papyri written in the Twentieth Dynasty (1189 BC-1077 BC) and "discovered" in 1931.

2\. Set was described in ancient Egyptian texts as having "white skin and red hair, with the Egyptians comparing his hair to the pelt of a donkey".


	10. Prophecies and Realities

**Sorry for the delay. It's been a busy few weeks and I wanted this to be right. I can't believe we're here…but here we go! **

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Prophecies and Realities**

Warmth. That was the first thing she noticed as she eased back into consciousness. It was like sitting in front of the potbellied, wood stove her father would light up whenever it got too cold in their tiny Paris apartment. She and her mother hated the cold and would wrap themselves in blankets to sit as close to the stove as possible; listening as her father would tell them stories of the great Egyptians they had descended from.

The heat from the fire used to be so comforting and whatever was providing her that warmth now, was familiar and just as good. She pried her eyes open, and was shocked to discover that she was in a bed; her own bed in her apartment in Cairo. She was under the light quilt her mother had made for her when she moved back to Egypt, and the room smelled of honey and jasmine. Sunlight spilled in through the blinds, casting her small bedroom in a dusky, orange hue.

She blinked a few times, trying to remember how she'd made it out of the temple and back to Cairo, but there was nothing after Horus had faked her death. Based on how stiff and groggy she felt, she wasn't so sure it was really fake. Had she actually "died"?

"This is a dream, Mut."

She sat up in bed and saw Horus standing at the foot, and now that she was no longer terrified out of her mind, she recognized how attractive he was. He was a god, and she expected no less than perfection; but he was beyond that. He was all chiseled angles and edges, but there was a softness to him. It had been beat down by years of suffering, but she'd glimpsed it back at the temple. It was there; flickering behind the pain in his soulful eyes.

Those same eyes were intense as they held her in his gaze. There were so many things she wanted to ask him, but she didn't know where to start. That was mostly because there were still some questions she was afraid to know the answers to.

He seized her hesitation and began speaking.

"When you wake, you will be safe and in the world you know. I needed to talk to you one last time."

"Last time?"

He nodded and continued, "You are not the reincarnation, but, you are just as important to me."

"How? I can't deal with riddles right now, I need you to explain it to me."

He sighed deeply and rubbed the back of his neck; his dark eyebrows wrinkled like he was just as confused as she was about what was happening.

"The amulet showed me something it was not supposed to. I saw Zahrah finally taking her place by my side. She looked like you, but in the way a girl resembles the women in her family who came before her."

She stared at him dumbly as his words sunk in, and then felt a tightening in her chest as she processed them. That's when a word he'd said earlier in their conversation came back to slap her in the face. Mut. _Mother_.

She gasped, "Are you saying that I'm…"

He cut her off with a firm shake of his head.

"Your scientific mind seeks answers I cannot reveal without risking the future I saw. I..." He paused; his breath catching in his throat. He shook his head and when he returned his attention to her, a half smile graced his lips. "I need that future to be real."

"You still love her after all this time," she mused.

"My love for Zahrah is as immortal as I am. She is a part of me and these years apart will feel like a blink of an eye in comparison to the years we will have together."

His sweet words made a sharp ache echo through her chest as she thought of Rick. They'd only known each other a few days, but he'd permanently burrowed his way into her heart. It hadn't happened the way it was supposed to; in the romantic way love blossomed in books and movies. She'd fallen in love with him through arguing, teasing, plotting, and fighting side by side, and somehow that felt completely right for them.

But he was most likely gone and that realization made that ache spread until it invaded her every cell. She pulled her knees up to her chest and sighed miserably. She didn't want to think about the possibility of Rick being dead anymore. That would be confirmed or denied soon enough.

She glanced down and noticed she still wore the amulet around her neck and she looked back to Horus.

"Are you taking the amulet?" She asked.

He shook his head.

"I will be punished for interfering today, and I do not want the amulet with me when they decide my fate," he explained. "You cannot keep it near you either. The closer it gets to the reincarnation, the more volatile it will be. What happened with you was just a glimpse of the power it will wield for Zahrah. When she touches it, it will send out a pulse for all of the gods to feel."

"Including Set?"

He nodded; his expression darkening.

"He has no limits to his depravity. It should be nowhere near you or your family."

"What should I do with it?"

"That is up to you," he said; an enigmatic grin on his lips. "When the time is right, her adventurous spirt will lead her to it."

"I need to know more..."

"You have everything you need. I must go now," he said, moving forward to cup her face in his large hands. "These days have been dark, but your life will be blessed with more love and happiness than you can imagine because you are the key to me finally finding my own."

He pressed his lips to her forehead almost reverently, and then he was gone; the ghost of his touch lingering against her skin.

She fell back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling; her thoughts a jumbled mess from the revelations Horus had just laid out for her. Without saying much at all, he'd told her that she would have a family one day with children of her own. That was hard enough to comprehend, but the idea that one of her children or even grandchildren would be the reincarnation he'd been waiting for, was even more unbelievable.

Slowly, the ceiling began to turn black and tiny pinpricks of light began to shine through. She sat up in bed just as it started shaking beneath her, and she gasped when a cool blast of air hit her face.

There were voices around her. They sounded jumbled; like she was listening underwater, but eventually, they started to clear.

"_We should have enough gas to get to Aswan, then we can figure out how to get back to Cairo."_

She recognized that voice! It was Rosita! Had she and Siddiq somehow made it to Edfu on a rescue mission? As much as that thought thrilled her, it frustrated her too. What was the point of sending them to safety if they were just going to follow her right back into the danger?

"_What happened back there? One minute you were standing right next to us and the next you were walking toward us with Chione in your arms."_

Siddiq's voice confirmed her assumption that both of them had followed the Governor to Egypt to save her, but they were with someone else.

She felt herself being tugged tighter against something hard and warm. A steady pounding filled her ears that reminded her of falling asleep with her head on Rick's chest.

"_I'll tell you about it on the way out of here. Right now, I just want to get her to safety."_

That voice sounded so much like Rick, but that was impossible. It had to be another dream or her exhausted mind playing tricks on her. There was no way he was there, no matter how much she wanted him to be; no matter how much she wanted to curl up and live in the warm rumble of his voice.

She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter in an attempt to stop the tears from leaking out. How could her own imagination be so cruel?

"You're not here," she mumbled brokenly; turning away from his voice and trying to wake herself from that dream. "You're dead."

The shaking came to an abrupt stop and she head the voice again.

"I'm here, sweetheart," he rasped; his voice cracking from the strain of holding himself together. "Now, open your eyes."

She did as she was told and pried her eyes open, blinking ferociously to bring the world into focus. It was dark; the stars being the only source of light. Strong arms held her off the ground, and her eyes followed the lines of his chest up to the hollow of his throat, and finally up to the face that she never thought she'd see again.

There was a few days growth on his cheeks and his sweaty, disheveled curls were all over his head. He was pale, which made the dark circles under his electric blue eyes look even darker, and the worry and pain in them was as clear as day. His pink lips were dry and cracked but they were curled into that half grin she knew so well.

He released a shaky breath and that grin turned into a full blown smile.

"Hi," he whispered; his voice like sandpaper but with its edges worn down by relief.

She lifted a trembling hand to his cheek and he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. Her eyes filled with hot tears, and she ran her fingers across his coarse stubble.

She stuttered, "I-I thought…"

He shook his head and pressed his lips against her palm.

"I know," he interrupted. "It would take a hell of a lot more than a bullet to keep me away from you."

His words were like a trigger, sending her scrambling out of his arms and to her feet. She threw her arms around his neck and crushed her lips to his.

It took less than a minute for his hands to weave through her hair and pull her in tighter. She closed her eyes and sighed; reveling in the taste of him as he slanted his lips against hers. The kiss was hot and desperate, slow but urgent, relieved and regretful. He was telling her so much with every sweep of his tongue against her lips, and when she parted them, he plunged in with everything he had; pulling moans from deep inside of her.

Her body was flush against his and his body heat burned her skin through the gauzy dress she wore. Her fingers tangled in the curls at the back of his neck causing him to groan into her mouth. Her hardened nipples rubbed against his the rough fabric of his shirt, sending shivers racing down her spine and his arousal was just as fervent.

When he finally pulled away, even though her eyes were still closed, she sensed he hadn't moved far. She could still feel his breath against her lips, and the warmth of his body shielding her from the cool, night air.

"God, Michonne," he sighed into her hair. "I lost my damn mind when I thought you were gone. If I didn't already know I loved you, I would've known it then."

She opened her eyes to see tears streaming down his cheeks and she pressed her forehead against his; her heart swelling impossibly in her chest.

"I love you too," she said; keeping the promise she'd made to herself to not let a minute pass without Rick knowing how she felt about him.

"Well damn," he chuckled. It wasn't exactly the response she was expecting.

"What?" She asked; glancing up to see his tired eyes shining and a smug grin nearly splitting his face in two.

"Looks like we finally found the one thing you won't argue with me about."

She didn't want to smile, but she did anyway before rolling her eyes at him. She was so happy that he was alive and that they were together that even his cocky arrogance was endearing.

Actually, if she was being completely honest, that was just another reason why she'd fallen for him so quickly.

"While this reunion is beautiful as hell, we don't have time for it."

They both turned their heads to find Rosita spinning a ring full of keys around her finger and watching them with a smirk. Siddiq was standing at her side wearing a matching, bemused expression.

Michonne let go of Rick and went over to hug both of them.

"I'm glad you're alive, chica," said Rosita. "But if you ever send us away before a fight again, I will kill you myself."

"I just wanted you to be safe," Michonne argued, and Siddiq frowned.

"Chione, we'd rather die fighting at your side, than live asking ourselves what more we could've done," he scolded.

Michonne nodded, accepting what they were saying and feeling the love that tied them all together. They were her family; the only family she had ever since her father passed away, and now Rick was part of that too. She could never leave any of them behind and she couldn't expect them to leave her behind either.

"We need to get moving. We don't want to be anywhere near here in the morning," Rick said, walking toward them and looking at Rosita. "You found keys?"

"Si. The truck has enough gas to get us to Hurghada. I have a friend there with a plane since someone forced me to crash mine."

Rosita cut her eyes over to Rick who ignored her as he grabbed Michonne's hand and led her toward the truck.

"Let's get moving then," he said.

The amulet bounced against her chest and reminded her of what Horus had told her. It wasn't safe. They needed to get that thing about as far away from them as they could.

She dug in her heels and brought them both to a stop.

"Wait. We need to go to Deir el Bahri first."

He turned to her with his brows furrowed.

"Why the hell do we we need to go there?" He asked.

She glanced down at the amulet around her neck and swallowed hard.

"We can't give the amulet to the museum. As soon as the Nazis realize they've lost a whole squadron of soldiers, they'll put two and two together and come after it again."

He was quiet, which meant he was actually thinking about what she said.

After a minute, he finally conceded, "Probably."

She took a deep breath and powered through the rest of it.

"Which means, we can't keep it either. It's too dangerous."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Tell me you aren't proposing what I think you're proposing," he begged; and she saw the exact moment he put their need to get rid of the amulet, together with her request to go to Deir el Bahri.

She steeled herself for an argument, but she wasn't going to let it go.

"Listen to me, Rick. It makes perfect sense. Tombs cave in all the time and no one is going to waste time digging out a tomb they think nothing is in. Not when there's treasure to be found in others."

"You want to put the amulet back where they found it and blow the tomb?" He asked; disbelief scrawled across his features.

She continued pressing him, certain of her plan.

"It's the only way to keep it out of the wrong hands with it still being someplace where the reincarnation can find it."

"How do you know she'll find it?"

Horus's deep voice echoed through her mind. _Her adventurous spirit will lead her to it. _If the reincarnation was really going to come from her bloodline, she had to believe that archeology would be in her blood too.

She lifted her chin and met Rick's skeptical stare.

"I just do," she said.

He ran his hand over his face and groaned.

"Michonne…"

"We have to do this," she pleaded. "and you're just going to have to trust me on this one. Do you trust me, Rick?"

They stared quietly at each other, and it was less than a minute but to Michonne, it felt like years before Rick let out a whoosh of air between his full lips before nodding solemnly.

"Of course I do. I just never thought I'd end up excavating in reverse," he said; the corner of his lips tilting upward. "Rosita, did you happen to see any explosives in any of these trucks?"

"Si. There's a whole truck full of them."

Michonne smiled when he took her hand again and brought it to his lips. Then, he shook his head and chuckled in defeat.

"Grab some so we can get out of here. We're going to Deir el Bahri."

* * *

He held on to her hand as they used flashlights to move through the tomb and into the room where the sarcophagus should've been. Neither of them had ever set foot in the tomb before and they were both trying to take in as much as they could.

She wandered over to the north wall and her eyes traced over the beautiful carvings there. There were words etched around the two figures and she ran her fingers across them in awe.

"I've never seen hieratic carved in stone. It's beautiful," she gasped.

"What does it say?"

She squinted and held the light up higher, summoning her knowledge of the ancient script.

"Come! Come! Come! And kiss me when I die, For life, compelling life, is in thy breath; And at that kiss, though in the tomb I lie, I will arise and break the bands of Death," she read; her heart clenching with every word.

"So the Tomb of the Lost Goddess is Zahrah's tomb," Rick mumbled. He let go of her hand and went to inspect the relief on the east wall.

Michonne found it difficult to breathe. She was standing in the tomb of one of her ancestors, and the air around her felt thick and heavy. Zahrah was a poor, peasant girl but she had a tomb in the Valley of the Queens. She tried to picture what it looked like in antiquity; dripping in enough gold and opulence to suit not just a Queen, but a goddess.

She glanced over to where the sarcophagus should've been and the scratches on the floor evidenced that it had been at some point. Perhaps the same tomb robbers that had taken the valuables had stolen it too? It was the obvious answer, but she had a feeling that wasn't the case. Horus wouldn't have let that happen. Zahrah's sarcophagus was someplace safe.

"My god..."

Rick's gasp stole her attention, and she turned to see what could've made him shout, and she sucked in her breath when her gaze fell on the painting he was standing in front of. She raised the light again and as the image was completely revealed to her, it made her eyes sting with tears.

It was of a woman in a white dress with her dark hair twisted in ropes down her back. Nothing about the woman would indicate that she was anything more than a mortal, but it could be no one except Zahrah. At her feet was Horus; on his knees and humbling himself before her.

Rick's wide shocked eyes met hers.

"She looks like you," he breathed. She knew he was biting back more questions, but he stayed silent. She wanted to tell him everything, but the memory of what Horus had said about putting the future at risk, held her tongue. If Rick was part of that future, would him knowing about his role put everything Horus had told her at risk of not happening?

He was still staring at her; waiting for some kind of explanation but there was still so much love in his eyes that she felt it burning through her. In that moment, she was sure that Horus wasn't the only one who needed that future to be real, and she wanted it to be real with Rick.

"He made this place to honor her...to mourn her," she whispered; changing the subject; not ready to go down that path just yet.

There was a pause, but then Rick simply sighed and turned his attention back to the painting.

"Yeah...and when he decided to let go of the reincarnation, he put the amulet here thinking it would never be found."

"No, I think he put it here to be found, just not by us."

He lifted his flashlight and gestured toward an opening cut into the east wall.

"That's where they found it."

She moved over to the opening and peered inside, before lifting the amulet from around her neck. This was it. Once she replaced the amulet, she would be turning everything over to fate. She thought about the love Horus still had for Zahrah after centuries of being apart; wondering if there was some other way to ensure he found her again. Maybe this wasn't what Horus had in mind when he told her to get rid of the amulet? Maybe there some other way to ensure that the reincarnation found the amulet without putting everyone in danger?

Reading her mind in that way only he could, Rick gave voice to her misgivings.

"Both of us have dedicated our lives to preserving these artifacts. We leave it here, and some tomb robber could still figure out how to get in one day," he warned; before snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her into his side. "But Horus probably had a pretty good idea of what you were going to do with it and he left it with you anyway. If that's not confirmation that we're doing the right thing, I don't know what is."

He kissed her temple and held his light up to the opening in the wall again, and she let his words really sink in. He was right. Horus had to have known she'd want to do this and he hadn't stopped her. He'd trusted her to do the right thing, and that's exactly what she was going to do.

With one last, deep breath, she stepped out of Rick's grasp and up to the opening. There was a small stand cut into the granite, and she gently arranged the amulet on it before backing away. She grabbed Rick's hand and smiled.

"Thank you."

"No problem," he grinned. "Besides, I owe him for bringing you back to me."

"Sounds like I'm not the only one with a story to tell," she guessed, and a shadow passed over his features.

"I'll tell you about it later. Right now...I'm sure Rosita has the explosives rigged up. If we're gonna do this, we need to do it and get as far away from here as we can before the sun comes up."

Knowing how much Rosita loved blowing things up, she laughed. Siddiq was probably doing everything he could to temper her friend's excitement.

"You're right. Let's go."

Minutes later, they stood in the sand watching the smoke clear from the site of the explosion. The entrance to the tomb was covered in enough rock and sand to keep it buried for decades. The amulet would be safe in there, and they would be safe from the evil it had the power to attract.

He placed his hand on the small of her back and she leaned into him, resting her head on his chest.

"So what now?"

She sucked in her breath at his question. Except for the trip back to Cairo, their adventure was over, and the reality of their situation was staring them in the face.

"We go back to our real lives. I go to my job in Cairo, and you go back to Chicago to your son." Her voice sounded flat to her, so she could only imagine what it sounded like to him.

"That's the logistics of it, but it's nowhere near the heart of it," he said with a hint of melancholy creeping into his tone. "Our lives are 6000 miles apart, and it feels like I'd be leaving an important part of it here when I go. Tell me I'm not alone in that."

She nodded against his chest, fighting against the urge to beg him to stay. He was her future; she knew that but he had to go home to his son, his job, his life. He could bring his son to Cairo with him, but she couldn't ask him to give up everything else for her. Just like she knew he wouldn't ask her to move to Chicago with him for the same reason.

"You're not," she agreed.

He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. His gaze was like a loving caress against her skin and it made her knees go weak.

"So what are we going to do about it?" He asked.

"We do everything we can to make this work," she said firmly. "And once our situation changes, we'll reevaluate."

"Michonne," he began, but she silenced him with a shake of her head.

"We have a lot of things to talk about and a lot of things to figure out. But we almost died, and right now I just want to focus on how glad I am that we survived and on how much I love you," she whispered against his lips.

He sighed and tightened his hold on her.

"I love you too," he sighed, closing the distance between their lips to kiss her gently.

She parted her lips and relaxed into him; pushing away all thoughts of anything that wasn't how hard his body was, how hot his mouth was as her tongue explored it, and how much she absolutely adored him.

The rest would work itself out. After all, they had fate on their side.

* * *

**Cairo - 1936**

Rick looked around the small office at the university and sighed. He was about a million miles away from everything he thought his life was going to be, but he'd never felt more settled; more right. Almost a full year had passed since the night that had changed everything; the night the gorgeous woman with a sword had saved his life in more ways than one.

So far, he'd been able to keep his promise to Carl. There had been no adventures since that last one. Those few days where he'd learned that the Egyptian gods and magic amulets were real, while fighting Nazis and criminals had been enough to last him a lifetime. He had more important things to worry about now anyway.

He'd spent the last year teaching, being a better father, and trying to maintain a long distance relationship with the woman he loved. He had a stack of letters; one for every few days they were apart, and he'd sent her a stack just as high. He looked forward to her letters like Carl looked forward to Christmas. In most of them, she tell him about everything going on in her life; the things he dreamed he'd someday hear over dinner as she told him about her day. Somehow, they'd managed to carry on an argument about Nefertiti and Pharaoh Smenkhkare over two months worth of letters, but even those had made him smile when he read them.

In between those short letters, he'd occasionally get one that was three pages long and filled with passionate words, promises, and declarations of love. Those were the ones he'd read over and over again when he was missing her; the whole time hearing her voice in his head. God, had he missed her.

Summer had brought school break for all three of them, and they'd spent it in Paris. She'd finally met Carl and the two of them became thick as thieves within hours of knowing each other. Seeing her with his son had made him fall even more in love with her; so much so that he'd considered not returning to Chicago. The same thought had apparently crossed her mind too, because they'd spent hours in bed talking about teaching at the Sorbonne together and building their own little family.

Talking wasn't the only thing they'd done. He'd made love to her over and over again in that small bed; muffling her desperate moans with kisses to avoid waking Carl in the next room. Each time he buried himself inside of her, he wanted to stay there forever; lost in her warmth. She'd completely consumed him; leaving him willing to give up everything for her.

Then, everything had changed. She'd received a telegram from Cairo while on their vacation, explaining that Lacau had unexpectedly decided to retire, and there was only one person he wanted to succeed him. It hadn't come as a surprise to him; he'd known she deserved it. Becoming the first female Director of Antiquities for the Cairo Museum, was the opportunity of a lifetime. He'd been so proud of her for being the most brilliant Egyptologist he'd ever met; so brilliant that her sex didn't matter in a male-dominated field.

Even so, there was a hesitation in her and he couldn't have that. He'd never forgive himself if she turned down that position for him. So he'd sent her back to Cairo, promising her that they'd figure it out and until they did, they'd make it work. Meanwhile, he'd already decided that the next semester would be his last at the University of Chicago. He and Carl were going to move to Cairo as soon as he tied up all of his loose ends. The English School in the heart of city would give his son the education he needed, and he would find work with one of the universities there. It didn't matter what he did for work. All that did matter, was that they were together.

He wasn't jobless for long, because two days after he'd handed in his resignation, he'd received a telegram inviting him to assume Michonne's former position at the American University. Even though he knew she'd never admit it, he was certain Michonne had something to do with that offer.

He'd sent two telegrams that day. One to accept the offer and one to the woman responsible for it. Three months later, he was in Michonne's old office at the university, getting ready for classes to start.

"Dr. Grimes!" He looked up from the syllabus he was composing to find the president of the university standing in his doorway. "We are so glad to have you here at the university. We weren't sure we'd get someone to replace Dr. Samaha, but the position of Director of Antiquities for the Cairo Museum was an offer we couldn't counter."

Rick nodded, and continued packing up his things.

"I'm glad to be here," he said.

"How are you settling in? Is your son adapting to the move?"

"He doesn't like his school uniform, but he loves playing football with boys in the street outside our apartment."

Carter"That's good to hear. Are you leaving for lunch? Join me. We can discuss plans for the Egyptology department under your direction."

"I'd love to, but my wife and son are meeting me here in a few minutes."

Wife. He was still getting used to that. Officially, they'd only been married sixteen days, but they'd been married in his heart ever since she'd woken up in his arms after the Incident at Edfu. The telegram he'd sent to Michonne after accepting the job at the American University had read:

**I HAVE RE-EVALUATED OUR SITUATION. **

**FOLLOWING IN YOUR FOOTSTEPS WOULD BE EASIER IF I HAD THE HONOR OF BEING YOUR HUSBAND. **

**MEET ME IN PARIS ON DECEMBER 20 TO MAKE THINGS OFFICIAL. WITH ALL MY LOVE, RICK**

After two days of holding his breath, he'd gotten her answer.

**I CONCUR WITH YOUR RE-EVALUATION.**

**I WILL MEET YOU IN PARIS TO BECOME YOUR WIFE. **

**I HAVE HEARD YOU LECTURE AND YOU NEED ALL THE HELP YOU CAN GET. **

**I LOVE YOU. MICHONNE**

As agreed, they'd met in Paris where Dr. Michonne Samaha had become Dr. Michonne Samaha-Grimes in a small ceremony with only Carl, Rosita, and Siddiq in attendance. He'd nearly died the minute he saw her in the simple, white dress she wore. His heart had nearly stopped beating, and he'd found it difficult to breathe. Just seeing her like that had made it so much more real that the most amazing woman he'd ever met, was going to be his.

When she'd said "I do", it felt like he was being swept away in a tidal wave of joy unlike any he'd ever experienced. She was the air in his lungs and the blood in his veins, and he was determined to never be without her again. He loved her more than he'd ever thought possible, and during their wedding night, he'd spent a few luxurious hours showing her that love in every way he knew.

"Wife? I didn't realize you were married again." Carter's voice jarred him from his reverie and he noticed the confusion in the older man's furrowed brow and narrowed eyes.

"It's recent. We're still in the honeymoon phase."

"Well then, I hope the new Mrs. Grimes finds Cairo to her liking. Not many women would allow their husbands to move them halfway round the world with a small child so quickly."

"She's a special woman."

"You must join my wife and I for dinner sometime. I'm sure the little woman is eager to meet other ladies to pass the time with while you teach."

Before he could respond, he noticed Carl and Michonne approaching from behind Dr. Carter. He couldn't resist the wicked thought running through his head, so he turned back to Carter with a devilish grin.

"You can tell her yourself," he said. "She's just arrived with our son for lunch."

Carter's smile faded as soon as he turned around and saw Michonne. Confusion, realization, and shock all played across his features before landing back on confusion.

"Hello, Dr. Carter," she greeted with a warm smile illuminating her features.

Rick drank her in like he hadn't seen her in months, even though it had only been a few hours since he'd left their apartment. Even in her tan wide bottom pants, boots, and white button down shirt, she was gorgeous. Her braids were pulled away from her face in a bun that made it easier to wear a brown fedora similar to his.

"Dr. Samaha...Michonne...I didn't know that you two..." Carter's babbling trailed off when Rick wrapped his arm around Michonne's waist and planted a kiss on her temple. He could feel her body heat rise through her clothing.

"Rick," she warned. She had to keep reminding him that outward displays of affection were frowned upon in Cairo. Even though she wasn't Muslim, she tried to respect the beliefs of those around her.

He shrugged, "I can't help it. I was just telling Dr. Carter that we're still in the honeymoon phase."

If she thought he'd ever be able to go without touching her, she was woefully overestimating his ability to show restraint when it came to her.

He ignored her amused sigh, and smiled down at his son.

"Hey, son. How was school?"

Carl shrugged and tugged at the stiff collar of the uniform he absolutely hated.

"It was ok. Why is it so hot here? Isn't it supposed to be cold in the winter?"

He laughed at his son's assumption, and made a mental note to go over the hemispheres again with him.

"We're a whole lot closer to the equator than we were in Chicago," Rick explained. "Remember what the equator is?"

Carl nodded, but he kept his uncomfortable frown on his face.

"Next time, can we move someplace really far away from it?" He asked.

Both Rick and Michonne laughed, but maybe the kid had a point. January in Cairo was like July in Chicago and a respite from the dry, excessive heat would be celebrated.

"We'll see," he finally conceded.

Carter cleared his throat and backed out of the room.

"Well, I'll leave you three to your plans. Congratulations on your…marriage," he said.

"Thank you, Dr. Carter. We're looking forward to taking you up on that dinner invitation."

"Uh...yes. Let me discuss it with my wife and I'll get back to you."

He waited until Carter was down the hall to smirk at Michonne.

"He handled the news well," he said. They weren't exactly broadcasting their union, but they weren't hiding it either. Now that both of them had signed contracts for their jobs, he was ready to yell it from the rooftops.

She shrugged and looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

"He did. I wouldn't hold your breath for that dinner invitation though. People like us being married to each other is unheard of around here."

He chuckled; her statement true regardless of where they'd decided to start building their life together. He couldn't pretend to care what small minded people thought. If they dared give voice to their opinions in his presence, however, that was something else all together. If they made that mistake, they'd regret it; he'd make sure of it.

He tilted his head to one side and appraised her.

"You mean, two brilliant, intrepid, and extremely attractive archeologists aren't supposed to be married?"

She laughed and slapped his shoulder.

"You're a mess! How about we go home and have our own dinner? I was thinking about making Khoshari."

"Sounds delicious. Lead the way, Mrs. Grimes."

The three of them were just about to leave his office when the door to the street was flung open and a gangly, young Arab man ran inside. When Rick realized it was Michonne's assistant at the museum, he also realized his dinner plans were about to be postponed.

"Dr. Samaha! I'm so glad I found you! You're needed at the museum," the young man announced, his words running together in a panic.

"What's going on, Tariq?"

"We got a message from Dr. Montet. They've made a discovery at the Tanis site."

Rick could see Michonne's body practically humming with excitement at that news. She turned to him; her eyes swirling with a mix of apology and joy.

"I have to go…"

He nodded and swallowed his own disappointment, before flopping down on the edge of his desk.

"I know."

"I love you," she said, and he grinned at the playful lilt in her voice.

"I know that too," he agreed before pulling her to him for a searing kiss. "Be careful," he cautioned as he reluctantly let her go.

She smiled at it was like a sunbeam; warm and bright.

"Always," she affirmed. "See you later, kid. I owe you a candy bar for this, ok?"

Carl nodded and Michonne leaned down to kiss the top of his head before dashing out of the office behind her assistant.

Rick sighed and looked over at Carl.

"I guess it's just you and me tonight. How about dinner at one of the hotels? I hear some of them even have hamburgers." It wasn't even close to anything Michonne would've made, but it would have to do.

After getting his son's approval and locking up his office, they walked side by side down the long hallway leading to the exit. He was reaching for the door when it swung open revealing a breathless Michonne.

He raised an eyebrow, and she looked from him to Carl and back again with that toothy smile that made his heart stutter in his chest.

"What do you say we grab some shawarma from one of the street carts and give Carl his first lesson in Egyptology?" She asked.

He returned her wide smile before glancing over to Carl who was already nodding and bouncing on his heels.

"Please, dad?"

He couldn't say no to that. Besides, he'd wanted to go to Tanis ever since Michonne had told him about the excavation there. She thought there was a possibility to find intact tombs that rivaled Tutankhamun's, and he thought she was right.

He also thought they might find some clues to the location of the lost Ark of the Covenant, but he was keeping that theory to himself. For now.

"Of course," he began, "but you know if you needed my expertise at the site, you didn't have to use Carl as an excuse."

Her eyes narrowed and she folded her arms across her chest. She was looking at him in the same skeptical but amused way she'd looked at him on the day they met, and it turned him on in exactly the same way.

"I'm not sure how much expertise you could offer that I don't already have," she volleyed back with a snort.

He grinned even wider.

"You can deny it all you want sweetheart, but we both know you love me for my mind."

Michonne frowned, but didn't say anything to him as she turned her attention to Carl.

"C'mon, kid. I'll teach you things about Egyptology your dad has only read about." She gave him a cheeky half smile before leading Carl away as he started asking her a good three questions a minute about the excavation site they were headed for.

He watched them go on ahead of him out into the busy streets, and he smiled to himself as it dawned on him that this was his life now. Spending his days teaching, spending time with his son, verbally sparring with his wife - who was definitely smarter than him, but he'd never admit that - was everything he could ever ask for. He didn't need the adventures anymore. All he needed was his family.

"Come on, dad!"

"I'm right behind you," he answered.

He stepped out into the blistering Saharan sun, pausing for a moment to look at the ball of fire illuminating the sky, and remembered the amber eye of the god who'd saved them a year ago. He wasn't naive enough to think Horus's motives were completely altruistic, but he also didn't care enough to press Michonne when she'd been less than forthcoming about what she'd seen and what Horus had told her. Being alive, being with Michonne meant so much more to him, but still…

"Rick?"

Michonne was watching him with one hand on her hip and one eyebrow raised, his signal that he'd better get a move on. As he hurried to follow his loves to the shawarma cart, he had a premonition that when it came to his life with Michonne, the real adventure was just beginning.

**The End?**

* * *

_There aren't too many notes to this one. _

_1\. Mut ( I think it's pronounced maut) is ancient Egyptian for mother. Mut was also the mother goddess in Egyptian mythology. _

_2\. Hieratic is an ancient form of "shorthand". It's easier than hieroglyphics and is fancier, looking almost cursive. It was only used on papyrus and only priests knew how to write this way. _

_3\. The words etched on the walls are from an ancient Egyptian love poem from the New Kingdom (1550-1069 BC). Their love poetry is romantic, sexy and beautiful! You should definitely google it!_

_4\. International phone calls weren't really a thing in 1935. I figured telegrams and letters were the only way RM would be able to keep in touch during their separation. I actually found a few marriage proposals via telegram and that's what gave me the idea. _

_5\. Rick and Michonne were arguing in their letters over the theory that Nefertiti ruled Egypt as Pharaoh Smenkhkare after her husband Akhenaten died. _

_6\. Tanis is a reference to Raiders of the Lost Ark, the movie that forced me to write this story. The Well Of Souls that led them to the Ark of the Covenant was in Tanis; which was actually being excavated by French Egyptologist Pierre Montet around 1936. _

_It was my goal to keep this contained to 10 chapters and an epilogue and I managed it! That is such a big deal for me because I'm terrible at finishing things. Obviously, right?_

_The epilogue is coming, and I'll take a minute to thank all of you properly there. Until then, THANK YOU so much for reading this story! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know what you think!_

_Oh, and shout out to the guest who guessed the ending in their review of the last chapter! I hope you still had fun on the journey, even though you knew the destination. :)_


	11. Epilogue - A Future

**Epilogue - A Future**

**St. Helena, CA - 1995**

The vineyard was gorgeous in the summer; too gorgeous to be stuck inside the house for a party even if it was in her honor. The kids had thrown a surprise anniversary party for her and Rick and the house was full of people. That was the reason she was sitting on the wicker couch on the large porch that wrapped around her son's farmhouse, instead of mingling inside with everyone else. The sun was just ducking behind the rows of grapevines, and the cooler night air was being ushered in by a gentle breeze.

"Umi? What are you doing out here?"

She turned her head, and there was her daughter standing in the doorway with a hand on her slender hip. Judith had always been bossy and age had amplified that to an almost unbearable degree.

Judith tucked a strand of her graying curls behind her ear, and from the annoyed look in her eyes, Michonne knew she was in trouble.

She offered, "I just wanted to get some air, sweetheart. It's a little crowded in there."

Judith smiled and sighed.

"Of course it's crowded! The whole family is here celebrating you and daddy," she said; using that same voice she usually reserved for the children of the family.

Michonne wanted to tell her that last time she checked, she was still the parent; but she realized that would only start another futile argument. Besides, Judith meant well; even though she had a tendency to be a little overbearing at times.

Keeping her tone sweet, she explained, "I know, sweetheart. I'll be back in soon."

Judith's hazel eyes narrowed, and she folded her arms over her chest.

"Are you sure you're feeling ok..."

Michonne nodded, eager to put her daughter at ease so she would go back in and enjoy the party she'd worked so hard to plan.

"I feel better than I have in a long time, Judy. I just needed a break for a minute."

"Alright...but if you're not in here in 10 minutes, I'm sending the boys out to get you!"

Judith spun around and disappeared into the house, leaving Michonne to her thoughts and the beautiful Northern California night. She leaned her head back and shut her eyes, happy to have just a little peace and quiet.

Getting old was tough; especially for someone like her who had always prided herself on her ability to take care of herself. Her family had been treating her like she was made of glass ever since her illness.

Pneumonia had hit her hard the winter before, and they'd been terrified of losing her over the weeks she'd spent in the hospital. Rick barely left her side and when he did, one of their kids or grandkids were right there to pick up the slack. At 93, her husband needed to be taking it easy himself instead of worrying about her.

That was the main reason she'd agreed to spend the time she needed to recover at RJ's vineyard. Well, that and the fact that winters in Chicago were still awful even after living there for so long. They'd always made her wish she still had her mother's blanket and her father's potbellied wood stove.

What was supposed to be a visit until she was feeling better, turned into a kidnapping. All three of her kids had found themselves on the west coast, and they were bound and determined to have her and Rick there too. They'd ganged up on them, their spouses had ganged up on them, hell, even her grandchildren and great-grandchildren ganged up on them. It was a no win situation, so they caved.

That was almost a year ago, and they'd been living at the vineyard with their youngest son, RJ, and his family ever since. Carl lived up in Seattle with his family and Andre and Judith were in San Francisco with theirs. The grandchildren were all over the place, but the vineyard was the gathering spot for everyone. It had become the family home almost as soon as Rick Jr & Amelie bought it, but it was even more so now that they'd abandoned the house in Chicago.

Amelie came from a long line of wine makers and RJ had fallen in love with it almost as much as he did with her. They'd wanted to bring the techniques of the French wineries to America, so they'd spent every penny they had on the struggling winery after they got married, and had worked hard to turn it into something special. Almost thirty years later, it was one of the most successful wineries in California, and she and Rick couldn't be more proud of their youngest.

It was also the last nail in the coffin holding the hope they had about any of their kids following in their footsteps. Carl liked archeology, but he was meant to be doctor. He never did like the heat that tended to go along with dig sites. Andre had become a civil rights lawyer after seeing how black people were treated in the south. Judith had gone to college to study teaching, but graduated with a degree in architecture. She'd always loved to draw, so that made sense. With RJ choosing the life of a winemaker, it seemed like no one would continue the family business.

Still, her life had been blessed with more happiness than she thought possible. She and Rick had been deeply in love for 60 years and had carved out a practically perfect life for themselves. Their careers had taken them all over the world; Cairo, Senegal, Zimbabwe, Meroe, Paris, London, Peru, Mexico, Boston, Chicago...excavating, teaching, and exploring together.

They still kept up with all news related to Egyptology, and argued conflicting theories. Their make up sessions weren't nearly as robust anymore, but they still made each other so happy in every possible way.

They'd raised four smart, compassionate, wonderful children who'd grown up seeing everything the world had to offer. She'd led an accomplished life, but her kids were what she was most proud of; and now she had grandchildren and a few great grandchildren.

"Tita?"

Only one person called her that and just the sound of her great-granddaughter's voice brought a smile to her face. She turned and saw the six year old standing on the top step; her blue party dress dusty and torn at the hem. Her mop of dark curls had been freed from the ponytail her auntie had wrangled them into earlier, and were framing her cherubic little face. The girl looked a complete mess, but she was beaming from ear to ear; her dark eyes glowing in the fading sunlight.

Michonne tried to slip on her mask of sternness; Jourdan knew that she was not supposed to be under the house in her nice clothes, but she felt the grin lifting the corner of her lips.

"Jourdan Grimes! Have you been excavating under the porch again?"

The girl had enough sense to look contrite, but it only lasted a moment before excitement blossomed across her round, little face again.

"Yes...but I found something! Look!"

Jordan ran to her and held out her palm, proudly revealing two silver dollars, two gold Egyptian piastres, and one drachma she'd found.

Michonne smiled and clapped her hands; well aware that her grandson had hid those coins there a few days ago for his daughter to find. She'd caught him sneaking out from under the porch while Jourdan had been napping. When he'd noticed her watching from the porch, he'd just shrugged.

"I'm just feeding the archeology in her blood," Marcus had said, with the trademark grin all the Grimes men used to their advantage as often as possible, firmly in place. "Isn't that what you and grandpa used to tell my parents when I was her age?"

She'd had no argument for that. Marcus had archeology in his blood ever since he was old enough to understand what it was, despite RJ and Amelie's hope for him to take over the winery someday. Out of their six grandchildren, he was the only one who took an interest in it, and she and Rick may have spoiled him a little because of it.

When Marcus was Jourdan's age, he'd been inside the Great Pyramid. That love of Egyptology hadn't skipped a generation for him, because now, his daughter was toothlessly grinning up at her as she offered her treasure up for inspection in preparation for her first trip to Egypt later that year.

"That is a valuable find, habibi! What will you do with it?"

"Daddy says the things we find belong in a museum," Jourdan explained.

Michonne pretended to consider that for a minute, impressed at how logical the little girl was.

"That's true...how about I make sure the small ones go where they belong, but I think the big ones belong in your piggy bank!"

Jourdan giggled and shoved the silver dollars into the little pocket on the front of her dress.

"Do you think I'll find more in Egypt with daddy?"

She nodded and tapped Jourdan's nose.

"I'm sure of it!"

The girl's eyes grew as wide as saucers and she asked, "Then I can be a ark-e-olo-gist like my daddy, and grandpa, and you?"

"Remember, archeology is not only about finding treasure. You have to study hard, go to college for a long time, practice your languages, and learn everything you can."

Jourdan nodded, and she never seen such a small child look so determined. Then, she sat down on the wicker sofa and pressed herself into Michonne's side.

"Can you tell me a story again?"

"Habibi, you've heard all of my stories dozens of times," she chided.

_ "Please, grandma! I love your stories," _Jourdan begged in Arabic, and Michonne cracked. The little manipulator knew that showing off her Arabic skills was a direct path to her grandmother's heart. There was also the fact that Jourdan reminded her too much of herself at that age; begging Abu Al'asatir to tell the stories of the past that she'd loved to hear.

"How can you refuse a request like that?"

Her smile grew wider at the sound of Rick's gritty voice. He was leaning heavily on his cane, and his eyes sparkled as they drifted from her to Jourdan.

"Jadi!" Jourdan yelled, just before running over and wrapping her arms around Rick's legs. He patted her head and laughed.

"How's Jadi's little digger today?"

"I found money under the porch!"

"You're a natural!"

Michonne watched as he slowly made his way over to where she was sitting. Knee replacements had him hobbling a bit, but he insisted on walking in spite of his doctor's suggestion of a wheelchair. He eased himself into the seat next to her and pulled Jourdan into a warm hug. He winked at Michonne over her shoulder.

"Now I see why you disappeared on me. You wanted this little one all to yourself," he teased.

"You're on to me," she agreed with a smile.

She listened as Jourdan told Rick all about her under the porch dig site, and watched as his smile grew wider with every word. It reminded her of quiet moments when their own kids were little and loved to just cuddle up with them.

"After a find that big, I think you've earned a story from your tita," Rick concluded with a grin wide enough to match Jourdan's.

"Alright, alright. What story should I tell her? She's already heard them all."

"Not all of them," he answered with a very familiar gleam in his eye. Maybe it's time we tell her about Zahrah."

She thought she heard Jourdan ask "who's Zahrah", but she couldn't respond to her question. Her mind was still sharp in her old age, but that name brought it screeching to a halt.

Over the years, she'd wondered about Zahrah's reincarnation and the amulet still hidden in that Deir el Bahri tomb. When she'd been the Director of Antiquities, she'd actively kept excavation requests far away from that site until it was virtually forgotten, and any notes on the amulet were conveniently "lost".

When Judith was born, she'd thought the prophecy was coming true, but that idea was quickly laid to rest after she never showed any interest in Egyptology. None of her grandchildren did either, except for RJ's son, Marcus. She'd begun to wonder if Horus's vision had been accurate, or had he only seen what he wanted to see.

It had been so long since she'd even thought about Zahrah, the reincarnation, and the god waiting for her return. That name brought it all flooding back, and she stared at her husband; wondering why he'd brought it up after all this time.

Then, she was reminded of the words that Horus had said to her all those years ago.

_She looked like you, but in the way women look like the women who came before them._

Her eyes shot to her granddaughter's expectant face and everything suddenly came into focus. Those wide, dark eyes were so much like her own. She'd never really noticed it before; in her mind, Jourdan looked like Marcus and RJ. But now, she saw that resemblance Horus had described, and it took her breath away.

_Her adventurous spirit will lead her to it._

At just six years old, Jourdan already had that in spades. She'd loved listening to the stories she and Rick told ever since she was old enough to understand. While most of the other kids were terrified of going under the porch, Jourdan had set up dig sites under there. After months of her begging, Marcus had finally agreed to take her to Egypt with him for the winter dig season. It was his first trip back since before Jourdan was born, and she hadn't stopped talking about seeing the pyramids for weeks.

_I saw Zahrah finally taking her place by my side…_

It was all completely clear to her now, and she wondered how long Rick had known. He'd said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and he was right. She couldn't understand why she hadn't figured it out before. As Abu Al'asatir would've said, if it had been a snake, it would have bit her.

Her heart sped up in her chest at the thought of the danger her granddaughter would no doubt face one day. The war between Horus and Set wasn't over, and she'd be caught in the middle of it. She had to hope he was right about everything he'd seen in that vision; that Jourdan would be the last reincarnation because she would become a goddess. Her great granddaughter…a goddess.

"Will you tell me about Zahrah, tita?"

Jourdan's voice pulled her out of her thoughts and she found herself staring into the saddest set of puppy dog eyes she'd ever seen.

"What do you think, sweetheart?" Rick asked; squeezing her hand in his. "The story has gotten lost over the years, but I think she needs to know it."

Her mind drifted back to the journals and notes she'd kept on the amulet and the location of the tomb, currently packed away in a box stored in RJ's attic. One day, that box would go to Jourdan; she'd make sure of it. It would give her everything she needed to find the amulet one day, and fulfill her destiny.

She lifted a trembling hand to Jourdan's face and fought against the tears threatening to fall. She didn't want to scare the child, so she summoned a weak smile and nodded.

"Yes. I think we can tell her the story," she agreed.

Jourdan jumped up and down before scrambling to sit on the porch in front of the seats with her legs folded up like a pretzel.

Rick lifted her hand to his lips and she smiled over at him. As he'd aged, his eyes had become even more blue than they'd been the day they met. He no longer had the curls she'd loved running her fingers through, but the buzzed cut he was wearing suited him. His beard was white to match the hair on his head, but he was still the man who'd stolen her heart all those years ago.

His eyes softened, and he smiled at her in that way that had always told her how much he loved her. If her life with Rick represented what it meant to find your soul mate, she understood why Horus would search for his across centuries. Love like that was like the pyramids themselves; sturdy, full of wonders, breathtaking, eternal.

Footsteps on the wooden deck pulled their attention away from each other as Carl, Andre, and RJ joined them with Marcus right behind.

"Judy sent us out to get you two. She says you need to come in for the toast," RJ explained.

Marcus stepped around them and stopped abruptly when he saw how disheveled his daughter looked. He shook his head and ran a hand over his face.

"Jourdan! What…how…"

She shot her grandson a pointed look.

"She found some coins under the porch and she had to come show me. You know all about that, right Marcus?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily, reminding her so much of Rick.

"Yeah, grandma, I do."

"I thought so."

"Boys, Michonne was just about to tell a story. Why don't you go tell everyone to join us out here?"

Carl nodded and disappeared inside the house.

A few minutes later, they were surrounded by their family. After handing her and Rick a glass of wine, Carl stepped back and raised his in the air.

"Mom and dad. Thank you for showing us what a loving, happy marriage looks like so we'd know how find that for ourselves. Thank you for showing us how to be the kind of parents kids dream of having. Thank you for showing that it's possible to have it all as long as you willing to work hard for it. Thank you for everything. We love you. To mom and dad!"

Carl's heartfelt words brought tears to her eyes and she could've sworn Rick wiped a few away too as everyone raised their glasses and joined in the toast.

The kids joined Jordan on the floor, while the adults stood back in the shadows with their wineglasses waiting for the story to begin. Even Judith was smiling with stars in her eyes just like she had as a child when it was story time.

"In order to tell the story of Zahrah, we have to start with the story of how Rick and I met," she began.

"She saved my ass," Rick laughed, before remembering that there were children present and covering his mouth with his hand.

She laughed too, and couldn't resist pressing a soft kiss to his lips to a chorus of aww's from their family. With a soft sigh, she pulled his hand into her lap.

"And we've been saving each other ever since," she said; right before launching into the story that most of them would think was an exaggeration, but was the full and accurate account of how their family came to be. She'd omit the part about the reincarnation being of her bloodline though.

That part would become clear soon enough.

**Notes:**

Umi - mom in Arabic

Tita - grandma in Arabic

Habibi - my darling in Arabic

Jida - grandpa in Arabic

I can't believe I'm about to hit that complete button on this one.

Ok. I opened this whole thing by saying this story is a prequel for an original story I've been working on for a long time. It's nowhere near ready for anyone to read; it has missing chapters, plot holes, things that refuse to make sense, but one day those things will be fixed. Hopefully, if it ever becomes "more", you all will read it and revel in the fact that you have a backstory no one else has.

_To all of my readers, thank you for hanging in there with me and I hope you enjoyed this journey. _

_To all of my reviewers - Member00, atm0000, Richonne4Life & Philly Girl52, Yelle Hughes, alexindigo, Cleo Griffith, ChinaPia, itiswhatitis174, emeraldislegirl, viva1215, robinxstarfire44, jerkchickenz, Tpow86, Bwy5, blueprintofyourpast, Lavender73, MJRL, EGPRODUCTIONS, rplee333, Nattiprrs, amberjoy38, richonnelove1, Timeout7, Intrepid1, SunandShines, RBGzMom, Kekeh, La Phoenix, Siancore, grimes1970, soundslikelove75, Firefly-class, RichonneTWD, and every single guest - thank you for giving me feedback on what was truly a labor of love for me. It was a story I couldn't get out of my head and I had to write it. That you all for giving me the fuel and the encouragement._

_And to everyone who has fallen in love with Horus…he is a swoon worthy book boyfriend. Let me know your face claims if you have one and maybe I'll share mine. Even though I haven't found anyone who matches him exactly. :) _

_Now, I really am going back to the other unfinished stories. I just needed a break to figure out how to get them where I want them to go. I think I needed this one to prove to myself I could finish something. I'm ready to jump back in and do those stories justice. _

_Until next time…_


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